OF  THE 
UNIVERSITY 

OF 


THE 


LIFE  OF  A  BOOK  AGENT 


BY 


ANNIE  NELLES  (DUMOND,) 

Author  of  ' 

Scraps;  or  Sabbath-School  Influence;"   "Ravenia;  or,  The  Outcast  Re- 
deemed;" "National  Reform;  or,  Liquor  and  its  Consequence;" 
"Happy  at  Last ;  a  Sequel  to  The  Life  of  a  Book  Agent," 
etc.,  etc.,  etc. 


(FIFTH  EDITION,  REVISED.) 


PUBLISHED  BY  THE   AUTHOR, 
1522  LUCAS  PLACE,  ST.  LOUIS, 

18(J2. 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1867, 

BY  MRS.  ANNIE  NELLES, 
In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  Indiana. 


CTi 


#s 

ten 

MA/O 


TO  THE 

*  BOOK   AGENTS   OF   AMERICA  * 

THIS  BOOK  IS 
EESPE  C  TF  ULLY  DEDICA  TED 

BY  THE  AUTHOR. 


M5728T 


PREFACE. 


There  are  several  motives  which  have  actuated  me  in  the 
preparation  of  the  following  sketch:  among  the  first  is  to 
assist  the  book  agents  in  their  work,  by  giving  them  the  ex- 
perience of  a  successful  book  agent,  one  that  has  been  suc- 
cessful in  the  business. 

To  enable  the  young  and  inexperienced  to  avoid,  as  far  as 
possible,  the  rocks  and  shoals  upon  which  her  bark  made 
shipwreck,  is  one  of  the  objects  of  this  publication.  • 

The  world  is  full  enough  of  misery  and  sorrow  caused  by 
man's  treachery  and  wrong;  and  if  I  can  in  any  degree, 
however  small,  check  this  torrent,  I  shall  feel  myself  abun- 
dantly repaid  for  all  time  and  labor  the  effort  may  cost  me. 
May  this  little  volume  lead  some  stray  lamb  back  to  the 
fold. 

That  the  present  work  contains  many  errors  and  inaccu- 
racies of  language,  is  undoubtedly  true;  but,  of  one  thing  the 
reader  may  be  assured :  the  main  incidents  therein  described 
are  actually  and  literally  true,  and  are  freely  given  to  the 
public  for  the  reasons  and  motives  above  indicated. 

With  all  its  faults  and  errors,  and  in  the  humble  hope  that 
it  will  be  kindly  received  and  tenderly  judged,  the  work  is 
submitted  to  a  generous  and  discriminating  public,  by 

THE  AUTHOR. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  I. 

Introductory  reflections  and  remarks — Minnie  Ford  tells  her 
own  story 11 

CHAPTER  II. 

Birth  and  parentage — Want  of  mother's  love — Death  of 
father — His  funeral — The  return  home — Saddened  reflec- 
tions upon  my  lonely  lot 16 

CHAPTER  III 

At  my  old  home  near  Atlanta — Description  of  the  place — 
Captain  Lake  my  guardian — His  neglect — His  marriage 
with  my  mother — Henry's  sickness  and  death — My  little 
half-sister  May — I  go  to  New  Orleans — Kate  and  May  sick — 
May's  death — I  return  home,  and  find  Kate  dead — I  return 
to  New  Orleans  with  my  brother  Frank. 26 

CHAPTER  IV. 

I  hear  of  my  mother's  death — My  step-father's  scheme  to 
rob  us  of  our  rights — Uncle  Adam's  death — Aunt  Kittie's 
death — Our  plans  for  the  future — I  go  to  Mrs.  Armstrong's — 
My  illness — Near  being  buried  alive — My  return  to  Geor- 
gia— Interview  with  Uncle  Tom  and  Aunt  Silvie — Captain 
Lake's  wife — My  illness  returns — In  my  old  room — Mrs. 
Lake's  kindness  to  me 42 

CHAPTER  V. 

Captain  Lake  returns  home — The  "young  widower"  with 
him — The  introduction  to  him — His  attentions  to  me — The 
proposition — Our  engagement — My  love  for  Mr.  Giles — 
Our  wedding — A  gay  party — We  start  on  our  wedding 
tour  68 

CHAPTER  VI. 

Arrival  in  New  Yerk — My  husband  discovers  my  want  of 
education — Conversation  between  him  and  Frank  on  that 
subject  —  Visit  to  Boston  — Visit  to  Philadelphia  —  My 

(  7) 


8  CONTENTS. 

brother  Frank  starts  for  California — Oar  return  home,  and 
reception  at  the  Lake  mansion 90 

CHAPTER  VII. 

We  go  to  housekeeping  in  Atlanta — My  husband's  children — 
Birth  of  my  child — Her  death — Her  funeral — Irregularity 
of  my  husband's  habits — His  first  appearance  before  me  in 
a  state  of  intoxication — His  secret — The  little  foundling — 
The  secret  revealed — Our  property  gambled  away — The 
sale — Captain  Lake's  kindness — Rent  the  house  which  was 
once  ours — My  husband  sets  out  on  a  trading  trip 101 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

My  husband's  return — His  success — Illness  of  the  children- 
Pecuniary  embarrassment — Illness  of  my  brother  in  Cali- 
fornia— A  letter  from  him — The  rebellion — Commencement 
of  hostilities — Captain  Lake  and  my  brother  enter  the 
service  of  the  South— The  parting 132 

CHAPTER  IX. 

The  reign  of  despotism  at  the  South — We  determine  to 
remove  to  the  North— Preparations— The  start — Difficulties 
of  the  journey — Kindness  of  General  Jackson — Arrival  in 
Cincinnati — Go  to  London,  Canada  West— Return  to  Cin- 
cinnati— My  brother  a  brigadier-general  in  the  Confederate 
army 148 

CHAPTER  X. 

Mrs.  Martha  H.  Mason  comes  to  see  me — Astounding  reve- 
lations— My  husband  admits  his  guilt — I  steal  away  from 
him — Kindness  of  the  landlord  and  his  wife — The  landlord 
and  myself  go  to  his  sister's  in  the  country 159 

CHAPTER  XI. 

Arrival  at  Mrs.  King's — Her  Christian  kindness — Efforts  of 
Mason  to  find  myself  and  Carrie — The  efforts  fail,  and  are 
finally  discontinued — My  plans  for  earning  a  livelihood. . .  182 

CHAPTER  XII. 

Return  to  Cincinnati — Difficulties  in  my  way — Return  to 
Atlanta — Bitter  disappointment — Return  to  Cincinnati, 


CONTENTS.  9 

and  teach  a  class  in  painting — Get  Carrie,  and  remove  to 
Detroit — At  a  loss  what  to  do 193 

CHAPTER  XIII. 

Open  a  boarding-house  in  Detroit — Meet  Captain  Lake — His 
wife  visits  rne — Meet  Mason  in  Detroit — Sell  out  my  furni- 
ture, and  go  to  Chicago  to  avoid  him 203 

CHAPTER  XIV. 

Arrival  in  Chicago — Search  for  employment— Wages  of  sew- 
ing women — Am  prostrated  by  sickness  —  In  destitute 
circumstances — Fortunate  meeting  with  Captain  Lake — 
His  kindness — New  acquaintances — My  enemies 214 

CHAPTER  XV. 

Make  the  acquaintance  of  Frank  C.  Ford — Incidents  of  our 
acquaintance — Angeline  Carney—  Proposition  of  Ford — Its 
acceptance — His  family — My  fears  of  the  future 226 

CHAPTER  XVI. 

Our  enemies — Interview  between  us  relative  thereto — The 
fatal  letter — The  engagement  about  being  broken  off — 
Reconciliation — The  wedding — Visit  to  his  mother  at 
Waukegan — Frank's  return  to  Chicago — I  follow 240 

CHAPTER  XVII. 

Commence  housekeeping  in  Chicago — Efforts  of  our  enemies 
to  separate  myself  and  husband — Their  effect  upon  him — 
His  falsehood  to  me — The  discovery — Attempted  suicide — 
The  separation — I  make  my  arrangements  to  leave  Chicago  257 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 

I  leave  Chicago — Journey  to  Niles,  Michigan — Go  to  Detroit, 
and  take  boarders — Give  up  my  boarding-house,  and  go  to 
work  as  a  kitchen  girl — My  sickness — Determine  to  become 
a  "book  agent" — Return  to  Chicago,  and  get  an  agency 
for  "Tried  and  True" — Sell  my  canaries,  buy  a  basket, 

and  start  for  Peoria,  Illinois 279 

CHAPTER  XIX. 

Arrive  at  Peoria,  get  lodgings,  and  go  to  work — Incidents — 
The  first  sale — A  good  week's  work — In  love  with  my  new 
business .  297 


10  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTEK  XX. 

Continue  canvassing — Dull  times — Discouragements — Amus- 
ing incidents — The  dentist — Difficulty  with  the  express 
agent — Kindness  of  friends — Mr.  Tripp 317 

CHAPTEK  XXI. 

Go  to  Elmwood — "  Waiting  for  the  wagon"  —  "Rolls  of 
butter  "—Arrival  at  Southport— Go  to  Rockhill— To  Lawn 
Ridge — "  Tom  " — The  lady  who  never  reads  novels — A  sad 
case  of  poverty — To  London — Chillicothe 337 

CHAPTER  XXII. 

Go  to  Chicago — "Home  circle" — Memorial  of  Mr.  Lin- 
coln"— At  Michigan  City,  Indiana — The  absent-minded 
lawyer — Over  the  L.,  N.  A.  &  C.  Railroad  to  Indianapolis. .  364 

CHAPTER  XXIII. 

"The  Lost  Cause" — Return  to  Atlanta — "The  General  His- 
tory of  Freemasonry  in  Europe" — Desolation  of  Atlanta 
and  vicinity 375 

CHAPTER  XXIV. 

Gloomy  reflections — Efforts  to  secure  the  return  of  the  con- 
fiscated property  of  my  brother  and  step-father — "The 
"History  of  Morgan's  Cavalry"  —  Return  home — The 
Wabash  Valley  Railroad 389 

CHAPTER  XXV. 

Leave  Indianapolis  for  Lebanon — Influence  of  rank  and 
fashion  —  Thorntown  —  Attica —  Danville  —  Adoption  of 
"  Willie  "—Northern  Indiana 403 

CHAPTER  XXVI. 

At  Laporte— Incidents— Elder  Walker— South  Bend— Wish- 
awaka — Fishing,  and  my  reflections  thereon — Elkhart — 
Goshen — "  Out  of  books  "  —Determine  to  go  to  Springfield  421 

CHAPTER  XXVII. 

The  "Eastern  Star"  Degrees— Arrival  at  Springfield— The 
cemetery — Tomb  and  home  of  Abraham  Lincoln — Return 
to  Laporte — To  Indianapolis — Conclusion 439 


THE  LIFE  OF  A  BOOK  AGENT. 


CHAPTER  I. 

MINNIE  FORD    WILL   TELL   HER   OWN    STORY. 

ANOTHER  wretched,  dreary,  rainy  day.  It  really 
seems  as  though  the  god  of  the  weather  had  a 
spite  against  me.  For  the  last  week  it  has  rained 
almost  constantly,  and  I  have  consequently  been 
unable  to  prosecute  my  business  with  anything 
like  success.  Last  evening  I  thought  the  rain  was 
over,  and  that  we  were  going  to  have  pleasant 
weather,  but  the  first  sound  which  caught  my 
ears  upon  awakening  this  morning,  was  the  rain 
beating  and  dashing  against  my  window.  And 
still  the  dreary,  monotonous  patter,  patter,  of  the 
falling  torrents  goes  on,  without  the  least  prospect 
of  cessation.  And  then  the  mud  in  the  streets! 
It  is  almost  unfathomable,  and  is  getting  worse 
every  moment.  Ugh !  it  makes  me  shudder  to 
think  of  going  out  to  canvass  for  subscribers  to- 
day. I  can  not  do  it. 

And  yet,  what  is  to  become  of  me  if  I  do  not  ? 
I  can  not  live  unless  I  work,  or  unless  I  do  better 
than  I  have  thus  far.  I  have  sold  but  one  book 
this  week,  and  only  made  one  dollar  profit  on 

(ii) 


12  THE   LIFE    OF   A    BOOK    AGENT. 

that.  I  have  to  pay  six  dollars  a  week  for  my 
board,  and  have  nothing  to  pay  with.  Ah !  poor 
Book  Agents !  They  have  a  hard  time  of  it. 
Certain  am  I  that  they  earn  every  cent  they  get. 
Here  am  I  without  a  cent  to  pay  my  board,  or 
even  post  a  letter,  and  no  prospect  of  being 
able  to  do  anything  for — the  Lord  only  knows 
how  long.  Were  it  not  for  my  two  precious 
babes,  I  should  almost  give  up  in  despair  of  ever 
accomplishing  anything. 

My  weekly  board  bill  is  due  to-day,  and  how 
to  meet  it  I  do  not  know.  I  pawned  my  furs 
for  money  to  pay  my  last  board  bill,  and  now  I 
have  nothing  I  can  spare — Oh !  yes,  there  is  my 
watch,  brother's  watch — but  how  can  I  part  with 
that  ?  Dear  brother !  Little  did  I  think  when, 
in  happy  days  long  since  past,  you  gave  me 
this  precious  keepsake,  that  I  should  ever  be 
driven  to  part  with  it.  But  I  must.  Stern  neces- 
sity knows  no  law,  and  there  is  no  help  for  it. 
One  by  one  all  my  little  treasures — bright  me- 
mentos of  happier  days — have  gone  to  enable  me 
to  keep  life  in  my  wretched  frame,  and  appease 
the  demands  of  hunger ;  and  now  this  last  token 
of  affection — this  priceless  gift,  which  I  thought  to 
keep  till  my  dying  day — must  go  as  all  the  others 
have  done.  But  it  is  useless  to  spend  time  in  vain 
repining — so,  away  through  rain  and  mud  and 
storm,  for  the  pawn-broker's. 

It  is  a  dismal,  gloomy-looking  den.  Its  rough 
exterior,  innocent  of  paint,  and  narrow,  low  en- 


THE   LIFE    OF   A   BOOK    AGENT.  13 

trance,  seem  to  frown  ominously  at  one,  and  warn 
me  not  to  seek  an  entrance.  But  my  wretched 
fortune  drives  me  to  it,  and  after  a  moment's 
hesitation  I  enter  the  forbidding  portal,  while  a 
shudder  of  agony,  at  the  thought  of  what  I  am 
about  to  do,  involuntarily  runs  through  my  frame. 
Once  inside,  I  am  compelled  to  wait  until  my  eyes 
become  accustomed  to  the  dim  light  which  enters 
the  dingy  apartment  through  windows  covered 
with  cobwebs,  and  begrimed  with  the  dirt  of 
years,  before  I  can  venture  to  transact  any  busi- 
ness. As  my  eyes  become  able  to  penetrate  more 
distinctly  the  gloom  which  pervades  the  place,  I 
discover  a  gloomy,  heartless-looking  old  man,  in 
whose  soul  the  last  spark  of  humanity  seems  to  have 
been  long  since  crushed  out  by  the  hard  and  spirit- 
blighting  avocation  he  is  pursuing.  Hesitatingly 
and  timidly  I  approached  the  old  man,  and  laid 
my  priceless  treasure  on  the  counter  before  him. 

"  Sir,  what  will  you  loan  me  on  this  watch  and 
chain?"  I  said  in  a  choking  voice.  "I  will 
redeem  it  in  a  month.  It  is  a  precious  keep- 
sake— the  gift  of  a  very  dear  friend — and  I  would 
not  lose  it  for  ten  times  its  value." 

"  Madam,  I  yoost  gives  you  ten  dollars.  I  no 
like  to  take  him  ;  he  not  much  vort — him  not  much 
sale,"  said  the  old  man,  turning  over  in  his  hands 
and  carefully  examining  my  treasure. 

"  Oh !  sir,  the  watch  alone  is  worth  fifty  dollars, 
and  the  chain  cost  twenty-five  but  a  year  ago." 

"  Veil,  madam,  such  t'ings  be  not  much  sale 


14  THE   LIFE   OF   A   BOOK   AGENT. 

Mm  be  not  much  vort ;  me  no  got  much,  monish 
to  spare,  but  I  gives  you  twelf  dollar.  Dat  ish 
more  as  him  ish  vort,  but  I  gives  you  dat." 

"  Oh !  sir,  I  can  not  take  it.  Twelve  dollars  for 
a  watch  and  chain  worth  at  least  seventy-five  ! — 
a  treasure  with  which  I  would  not  part  for  five 
times  that  amount.  You  can  certainly  give  me 
more  than  that." 

"  Yell,  madam,  I  gives  you  feefsain  dollar.  Dat 
ish  too  much — dat  ish  much  more  as  him  ish  vort — 
but  I  gives  you  dat,  and  not  one  cent  more." 

"  Sir,  I  accept  your  offer.  Give  me  the  fifteen 
dollars  and  make  out  my  ticket.  I  will  redeem 
it  in  a  month  from  this  time." 

"  Was  ish  de  name  ?" 

"  Mrs.  Minnie  Ford." 

The  old  man  gave  me  my  ticket,  handed  me 
fifteen  dollars  in  bank-notes,  and  thus  was  the 
sacrifice  completed.  Turning  from  this  den  of 
darkness,  almost  choked  with  the  violence  of  my 
emotions  at  parting  with  the  treasure  which  was 
so  highly  prized  on  account  of  the  precious 
memories  clustering  around  it,  I  again  sought  my 
boarding-house.  My  mind  was  so  much  preoccu- 
pied with  the  contemplation  of  my  wretched 
condition  that  I  scarcely  noticed  that  my  feet 
were  soaking  wet,  until  my  eyes,  falling  upon  the 
well-filled  show-window  of  a  large  shoe  store, 
reminded  me  that  my  shoes  were  full  of  holes, 
and  utterly  unfit  to  wear  in  the  prosecution  of 
my  canvassing  during  such  weather.  I  hesitated 


THE   LIFE   OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  15 

a  short  time,  and  then,  entering  the  store,  asked 
for  some  stout  shoes.  The  accommodating  sales- 
man showed  me  some,  and  I  selected  a  good  pair, 
for  which  I  paid  three  dollars,  and  again  set  out. 
Reaching  my  boarding-house  I  went  at  once  to  my 
room,  and  sat  down  to  muse  over  my  situation 
and  prospects. 

I  was  now  in  possession  of  twelve  dollars — 
enough  to  pay  my  board  in  iny  present  quarters 
for  two  weeks ;  when  that  was  gone,  unless  my 
business  improved  very  much,  what  would  become 
of  me  ?  How  could  I  live  on  one  dollar  a  week — 
all  that  my  utmost  efforts  had  been  able  to  earn 
during  the  last  week?  And  still  the  rain  con- 
tinues to  pour  down ;  still  I  sit  in  forced  idleness 
in  my  lonely  room ;  and  still  my  mind  is  dreamily 
contemplating  my  present  and  past,  and  speculat- 
ing of  the  future.  The  past!  ah!  the  sorrowful 
past !  It  is  full  of  grief  and  bitterness ;  all  marred 
and  scarred  over  with  the  baleful  effects  of 
passion,  and  wrong,  and  treachery,  and  deceit ;  and, 
as  I  contemplate  the  fearful  picture,  my  brain 
almost  becomes  wild  with  the  dreadful  retrospec- 
tion. Suddenly  I  start  up  with  convulsive  energy. 
"I  can  not  sit  still  in  idleness."  I  must  go  to 
work  again  with  my  books.  My  friend, .  Mrs. 
A.  N.  D.,  heard  me  say  this  and  asked  me  for 
a  history  of  my  life,  which  we  will  tell  in  the 
following  pages. 


CHAPTER  II. 

WE   WILL  LET  OUR  HEROINE,  ANNIE  EORD,  TELL  HER 
OWN   STORY. 

I  WAS  born  on  the  7th  day  of  September,  in  the 
year  1837,  six  miles  from  Atlanta,  in  the  State  of 
Georgia.  My  father,  whose  name  was  George  F. 
Hamilton,  was  an  Englishman  by  birth,  and  was 
a  grandson  of  George  Hamilton,  of  London,  a 
celebrated  Freemason,  who,  in  the  year  1737,  as 
Provincial  Grand  Master,  established  the  first 
lodge  of  that  ancient  and  honorable  fraternity  at 
Geneva,  Switzerland.  My  father  was  made  a 
Mason  in  early  life,  and  in  due  time  attained  to 
thee  degre  of  Royal  Arch.  I  do  not  know  that  he 
ever  attained  any  position  of  very  great  trust  or 
dignity  in  the  fraternity,  but  there  is  abundant 
proof  that  he  was  a  faithful  and  zealous  member, 
and  was  very  warmly  attached  to  the  principles 
of  the  Order.  I  mention  his  connection  with 
Masonry  only  to  more  fully  explain  some  events 
of  my  life  which  would  otherwise,  perhaps,  be 
partially  in  the  dark. 

My  mother  was  a  Frenchwoman.  She  was  a 
daughter  of  Louis  Lacorne,  Count  of  Clermont, 
celebrated  in  the  annals  of  Freemasonry,  and 
Grand  Master  of  the  Grand  Lodge  of  France. 

My  parents  were  married  in  the  city  of  London, 


THE   LIFE   OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  17 

England,  in  the  year  1822,  and  resided  there  for 
three  years.  I  have  not  been  able  to  learn  that 
their  lives  were  marked  by  any  events  of  special 
importance  during  this  time.  They  appear  to 
have  lived  very  quietly  and  happily  together  for 
the  entire  period.  About  the  beginning  of  the 
year  1825,  my  father,  having  been  impressed  with 
the  growing  greatness  of  the  new  world,  determined 
to  emigrate  thither,  and  accordingly,  in  the  sum- 
mer of  that  year,  he  and  my  mother  came  to  the 
United  States.  Upon  their  arrival  here  they 
settled  in  Virginia,  where  they  continued  to  reside 
until  the  year  1831.  During  their  residence 
there,  my  oldest  brother  and  sister  were  born. 

In  1830  father  purchased  the  plantation  where 
I  was  born,  near  Atlanta,  as  before  stated,  and 
in  1831  removed  there.  The  country  was  com- 
paratively new  at  the  time,  and  Atlanta  then 
presented  but  little  appearance  of  the  flourishing 
city  it  has  since  grown  to  be.  My  father  and 
mother  continued  to  live  contentedly  and  happily 
in  their  new  home  until  1840,  during  which  time 
two  children  were  born  to  them — my  brother  next 
older  than  myself,  and  the  subject  of  this  sketch. 
Our  family  then  consisted  of  six  persons — father, 
mother  and  four  children,  Franklin,  Kate,  Henry, 
and  myself.  We  had  a  valuable  plantation,  well 
stocked  with  slaves,  horses,  cattle,  etc. ;  a  beauti- 
ful home  in  the  midst  of  a  lovely  grove  of  cedars, 
magnolias,  and  other  magnificent  shade-trees ; 
while  the  air  was  laden  with  the  perfume  of  flowers 


18  THE  LIFE  OF   A   BOOK   AGENT. 

and  filled  with  the  music  of  the  feathered  songsters 
who  inhabited  the  wood.  A  bubbling  spring,  but 
a  short  distance  from  the  house,  lent  an  air  of 
delicious  coolness  to  the  landscape.  What  was 
there  left  to  desire  ?  But,  alas  !  even  in  the  garden 
of  Eden  pain  and  sorrow  found  an  entrance  and  a 
a  resting-place,  and  so  it  was  with  our  little 
paradise. 

But,  before  treating  of  the  events  which  finally 
led  to  the  entire  separation  of  our  family,  I  must 
beg  the  indulgence  of  my  readers  while  I  speak 
more  particularly  of  myself.  My  childhood  was 
far  from  being  a  happy  one.  Even  in  my  earliest 
years  it  was  easy  for  me  to  perceive  that  I  was  no 
favorite  with  my  mother,  though  I  would  not 
willingly  utter  a  word  against  her  memory.  She 
was  kind  to  me,  and  always  strove  to  do  her  duty 
toward  me,  but  it  was  plainly  to  be  seen  that  her 
kindness  toward  me  was  the  result  of  a  sense  of 
duty,  and  was  not  prompted  by  the  powerful  over- 
flow of  maternal  love  and  affection  which  influ- 
enced and  controlled  her  conduct  toward  the  elder 
children  of  the  family,  and  especially  toward  my 
sister.  I  do  not  know  whether  there  was  anything 
particular  in  my  appearance  or  deportment  which 
caused  this  distinction  to  be  made,  but  certain  it 
is  that  the  difference  existed,  and  that  its  effect 
was  finally  to  produce  an  entire  change  in  my 
disposition,  and  doubtless  exerted  a  marked  in- 
fluence upon  my  entire  life.  As  a  result  of  this  cool- 
ness, it  may  be  mentioned  that  at  the  early  age  of 


THE   LIFE   OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  19 

four  or  five  years,  I  abstained  almost  entirely  from 
taking  any  part  in  the  sports  of  my  brothers 
and  sisters.  Even  at  that  early  age,  I  was  fond 
of  solitude — used  to  steal  away  by  myself  to  brood 
over  my  loneliness,  and  to  wonder  why  it  was  that 
the  love  which  I  daily  saw  lavished  upon  others, 
and  for  which  my  heart  so  piteously  yearned,  was 
withheld  from  me.  People  were  accustomed  to 
say  of  me,  "  What  a  strange  child  she  is !"  and  to 
express  surprise  at  rny  serious,  old  womanish 
ways.  Ah!  parents,  beware  how  you  blight  the 
sunny  days  of  childhood  by  any  seeming  indiffer- 
ence toward  any  of  your  offspring.  See  to  it  that 
you  chill  not  the  spirit  of  one  by  a  more  kindly  or 
affectionate  demeanor  toward  another.  You  may 
think  that  the  neglected  one  has  not  sufficient 
discrimination  to  perceive  the  difference,  but  be 
assured  that  no  one  is  as  well  able  to  discern  the 
absence  of  affection  as  an  infant  child.  It  may  not 
be  apparent  to  those  of  more  mature  years,  or  even 
hardly  perceptible  to  yourself,  but  in  infancy 
there  is  a  kind  of  spirit-communion  which  infalli- 
bly detects  the  want  of  love,  and  the  knowledge 
of  that  want  may  exercise  a  most  baleful  influence 
upon  the  entire  future  of  your  child.  But  to 
return  to  myself. 

With  my  father  the  case  was  quite  different. 
I  always  appeared  to  be  a  favorite  of  his,  and 
when  he  was  at  home,  and  I  could  enjoy  his 
society,  I  was  as  happy  as  heart  could  wish.  But 
this  was  only  a  small  portion  of  the  time.  Busi- 


20'  THE   LIFE   OF   A   BOOK   AGENT. 

ness  frequently  and  constantly  called  him  away, 
and  engrossed  the  greater  portion  of  his  attention, 
and  thus  my  life  went  on — a  dark,  gloomy  sky, 
o'ercast  with  clouds,  with  only  here  and  there  a 
ray  of  sunshine  breaking  through  the  rift. 

In  the  latter  part  of  1840  my  father's  health 
began  to  fail,  and  it  soon  became  apparent  that 
without  some  relief  he  would  ere  long 

"  Sleep  the  sleep  that  knows  no  waking" 

His  physician  having  advised  a  change  of  air 
and  scenery,  it  was  decided  to  go  to  Philadelphia, 
where  he  had  a  half-brother  living,  in  the  hope  that 
the  bracing  air  of  the  North  would  restore  some- 
what of  vigor  to  his  shattered  frame.  Accordingly 
the  whole  family  went  thither  and  took  up  their 
abode  in  a  pleasant  mansion  in  the  City  of  Brother- 
ly Love. 

Month  after  month  passed  away,  but  brought 
no  relief  to  the  weary  and  enfeebled  frame  of  the 
sufferer.  Slowly,  but  surely  and  steadily,  he 
approached  the  confines  of  that  land  "  from  whose 
bourne  no  traveler  returns,"  and  when  we  had 
been  in  Philadelphia  about  two  years,  my  father 
one  day  called  me  to  his  bedside,  and,  laying 
his  hand  upon  my  head,  said : 

"What  will  my  poor  little  daughter  do  when 
she  has  lost  her  papa  ?  who  will  then  love  her  as 
papa  does  now  ? " 

I  asked  him  what  he  meant  by  saying  I  would 
lose  him,  and  he  told  me  he  was  going  to  live  with 
Jesus,  and  that  if  I  was  a  good  child  and  prayed 


THE   LIFE   OF   A   BOOK    AGENT.  21 

to  God,  he  would  let  me  live  with  Jesus  too. 
Never  while  I  live  can  I  forget  the  effect  of  this 
simple  conversation  upon  my  mind.  I  had  but 
little  idea  of  what  he  meant,  but  his  solemn 
manner  produced  the  most  saddening  effect  upon 
my  childish  heart.  I  had  a  sort  of  dim  impression 
that  his  language  imported  some  great  calamity 
to  me,  but  just  what  it  was,  was  quite  beyond  my 
comprehension.  Poor  child  that  I  was.  I  have 
since  learned  in  the  bitterness  of  unmitigated 
sorrow  the  awful  portent  to  me  of  the  journey 
which  my  dear  father  was  about  undertaking,  but 
then  I  only  regarded  it  as  some  earthly  journey, 
and  cried  to  accompany  him,  saying  I  wanted  to 
go  when  papa  did. 

The  next  morning  father  sent  for  his  friend, 
Captain  Charles  Lake.  When  he  came  I  was 
sitting  on  the  bed  with  my  father.  Father  put  me 
in  his  arms,  saying,  "Be  kind  to  my  little  pet 
when  I  am  gone."  Captain  Lake  promised  to  be 
a  father  to  me,  and  soon  afterward  the  doctor  came 
in  with  two  attorneys,  and  I  was  carried  from  the 
room.  I  did  not  know  what  was  going  on,  but 
thought  they  were  going  to  do  something  to  my 
papa — was  terrified  and  wanted  to  get  back  into 
the  room.  I  did  not  see  him  again  that  day,  and 
when  night  came,  and  my  old  nurse,  aunt  Silvia, 
put  me  to  bed,  saying  lie  was  sleeping  and  must  not 
be  disturbed  to  give  me  my  usual  good-night  kiss, 
I  felt  as  though  my  heart  was  broken,  but  finally 
sobbed  myself  to  sleep.  My  father  was  already 


22  THE  LIFE   OF  A   BOOK   AGENT. 

sleeping  the  sleep  of  death,  but  I  knew  it  not. 

The  next  morning  I  wanted  to  see  papa,  and  old 
nurse  took  me  in  her  arms  and  carried  me  into  the 
room.  Father  lay  on  a  board,  covered  with  a 
white  sheet,  and  I  thought  him  asleep,  and  asked 
old  nurse  to  let  me  kiss  him.  She  put  me  down  on 
the  floor,  and  I  kissed  him,  oh,  so  gently,  for  fear 
of  waking  him,  and  then  went  into  mother's  room. 
I  found  her  in  tears,  and  said  : 

"Mother,  what  is  the  matter?  What  are  you 
crying  about  ? " 

"My  child,"  said  she,  "did  you,  know  your 
father  was  dead  ? " 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  saying  papa  is  dead  ? 
He  is  asleep.  I  just  saw  him  and  kissed  him  very 
easy,  because  I  did  not  want  to  waken  him." 

"  My  poor  child  !  your  papa  will  never  waken ; 
he  will  never  come  back  to  you  any  more." 

Just  then  sister  Kate  came  into  the  room.  She 
was  crying  bitterly,  and  I  too  began  to  cry.  I  did 
not  realize  or  fully  understand  that  my  father  was 
gone,  never  to  return ;  but  they  were  all  crying, 
and  my  childish  heart  being  filled  with  terror,  I 
cried  in  sympathy  with  them.  This  morning  was 
the  last  time  I  saw  my  father's  remains  until  the 
day  of  the  funeral. 

How  vividly  did  the  incidents  of  that  first  funeral 
I  ever  witnessed  imprint  themselves  upon  my 
memory !  Even  the  most  trifling  events  of  that 
sad  day  are  as  distinctly  photographed  on  my 
brain  as  though  they  occurred  but  yesterday. 


THE  LIFE   OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  23 

Captain  Lake  took  me  into  the  parlor — the  room 
was  filled  with  strange  people — and  there  in  a 
coffin,  the  lid  of  which  was  raised,  lay  all  that  was 
left  of  my  dear,  dear  father.  Obedient  to  the 
direction  of  Captain  Lake,  I  pressed  the  last  kiss 
upon  the  cold  and  marble  lips  of  the  inanimate 
form  before  us,  and  then  the  funeral  services  be- 
gan. The  man  of  God  read,  from  the  eleventh 
chapter  of  the  Gospel  according  to  St.  John,  that 
beautiful  story  of  the  raising  of  Lazarus  from  the 
grave  by  our  Saviour,  and  told  us  that  even  so 
would  Christ  in  the  latter  day  raise  our  father 
from  the  tomb ;  and  then  they  sung, 

Hark,  from  the  tombs  a  doleful  sound, 

Mine  ears  attend  the  cry ; 
Ye  living  men,  come  view  the  ground 

Where  you  must  shortly  lie. 

I  have  never  heard  that  beautiful,  yet  mournful, 
hymn  sung  since  that  time  without  a  strong  in- 
clination to  shed  tears.  Never  do  I  hear  its  melody 
swelling  and  floating  on  the  air  but  memory 
carries  me  back  through  the  checkered  scenes  of 
my  life  to  that  sad,  sad  day  when  my  sorrows 
really  commenced.  Oh !  could  I  have  then  fore- 
seen what  the  next  twenty-five  years  of  my  life 
would  bring  forth — could  I  that  day  have  had 
even  the  most  transient,  fleeting,  uncertain  glance 
at  what  was  in  store  for  me  in  the  future,  how 
gladly  would  I  have  been  laid  to  rest  beside  the 
still  form  in  its  last,  narrow  house !  But  let  us  not 
anticipate. 


24  THE   LIFE   OF   A   BOOK   AGENT. 

When  we  reached  the  grave,  and  preparations 
were  made  for  depositing  in  the  ground  the  coffin 
in  which  I  had  just  seen  the  remains  of  my  father 
inclosed,  then,  for  the  first  time,  I  began  to  realize 
that  I  was  forever  separated  from  him  whom  I  had 
so  loved,  •  Oh  !  how  my  little  heart  then  throbbed 
in  its  agony.  Frantically  I  begged  Captain  Lake 
not  to  let  them  put  papa  in  that  dark,  deep  hole, 
and  implored  him  to  take  the  loved  body  away 
with  us.  The  services  were  finally  concluded  by 
the  congregation  singing, 

Why  do  we  mourn  departing  friends, 

Or  shake  at  death's  alarms? 
'Tis  but  the  voice  that  Jesus  sends 

To  call  them  to  his  arms. 

The  grave  was  filled  up,  the  congregation  slowly 
dispersed,  and  I  returned  with  my  mother,  brothers 
and  sister,  and  Captain  Lake,  to  our  now  lonely 
home. 

Lonely,  indeed,  was  this  home  to  me.  All  that 
made  it  dear  to  my  childish  heart  was  gone.  My 
father,  the  only  one  who  had  ever  seemed  to  love 
me  ;  the  only  one  who  had  ever  taken  any  interest  in 
my  childish  joys  or  sorrows  ;  the  only  one  to  whom  I 
could  go  with  my  little  griefs  or  cares,  and  feel 
assured  of  sympathy ;  the  only  one  toward  whom 
my  heart  had  ever  gone  out  in  love  ;  in  short,  my 
all,  was  lying  cold  and  motionless  in  the  grave- 
yard we  had  just  left ;  never  more  to  listen  to  my 
childish  tales  of  grief  and  sorrow ;  never  more  to 
whisper  sweet  words  of  comfort  and  paternal  love, 


THE   LIFE   OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  25 

or  to  gladden  and  cheer  my  desolate  heart  with 
his  presence.  He  was  sleeping  the  last,  long  sleep 
— that  sleep  which  can  know  no  waking  until  the 
last  great  day  when  the  trump  of  the  angel  Gabriel 
shall  summon  all  nations,  and  the  Great  King 
shall  come  to  judge  the  quick  and  the  dead.  Yes, 
I  am  alone,  and  with  a  heart  strangely  saddened 
for  one  so  young — with  a  spirit  crushed,  broken 
and  blighted,  by  the  sad  scenes  through  which  I 
had  passed,  I  sought  my  couch  and  sobbed  myself 
to  sleep. 


CHAPTER  III. 

Six  months  have  passed  away  since  the  close  of 
the  last  chapter — six  months  have  rolled  into 
eternity  since  my  father's  death,  and  we  are  again 
at  our  old  home  near  Atlanta.  Oh !  how  vividly 
does  everything  recall  to  my  mind  the  dear  friend 
I  have  lost.  Every  room  in  the  large,  old-fash- 
ioned, two-story  house  recalls  to  my  mind  some 
scene  of  joy  and  happiness  in  which  he  had  par- 
ticipated ;  the  porches  which  surrounded  it  on  all 
sides  were  those  in  which  he  used  to  sit,  on 
summer  evenings,  while  he  amused  and  instructed 
me  with  many  a  quaint,  and,  to  my  childish 
nature,  interesting  story — even  the  grove,  the 
flowers  and  birds  seemed  vocal  with  memories  of 
my  lost  parent.  What  wonder  that  I  wept  as  I 
reflected  that  I  should  never  see  him  more  ?  For 
to  my  young  fancy  it  seemed  that  the  entomb- 
ing of  the  remaims  which  I  had  witnessed, 
was  neither  more  nor  less  than  an  eternal  separa- 
tion. I  left  the  house  and  went  to  the  negro 
quarters — a  row  of  small,  neat  white  cabins,  which 
gave  the  place  the  appearance  of  a  little  village — 
but  even  these  reminded  me  of  my  poor,  dear,  dead 
papa,  and  I  turned  away  and  wept  in  the  bitter- 
ness of  my  grief.  If  it  be  thought  strange  that  a 
child  of  six  years  of  age  should  feel  sorrow  so 

(26) 


THE   LIFE   OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  27 

acutely,  and  retain  such  a  vivid  recollection  of  it, 
it  must  be  borne  in  mind  that  the  peculiar  circum- 
stances of  my  childhood  ha.d  given  me  habits  of 
reflection  far  beyond  my  years,  and  that  such 
reflection  had  taught  me  that  with  the  death  of 
my  father  the  sunlight  of  my  young  life  had 
gone  out. 

When  my  father's  will  was  published,  it  was 
found  that  he  had  appointed  Captain  Lake  as  his 
executor,  and  had  also  nominated  him  as  guardian 
for  the  children.  He  was  to  have  the  general 
superintendence  of  every  thing ;  was  to  care  for 
the  property  and  to  see  that  the  children  were 
properly  raised  and  educated.  How  well  he  ful- 
filled his  trust  let  the  sequel  show.  My  father's 
plantation,  the  slaves  and  other  property  on  it, 
were  valued  at  thirty  thousand  dollars  or  there- 
abouts, and  there  was,  besides,  twelve  thousand 
dollars  in  cash.  By  the  terms  of  the  will,  this 
money  was  to  be  put  at  interest,  and  the  interest 
applied  to  the  education  of  the  children — the 
balance  of  the  property  was  bequeathed  to  our 
mother  for  her  natural  life,  and  after  her  death  was 
to  go  in  equal  proportions  to  the  children. 

The  weeks  and  months  passed  away,  and 
nothing  was  done  toward  the  education  of  the 
children,  so  carefully  provided  for  by  my  dear 
father's  will.  Nineteen  months  passed  away  thus, 
and  it  began  to  be  whispered  about  that  our 
guardian  would  soon  take  our  father's  place 
in  the  family  and  be  invested  with  the  entire 


28  THE   LIFE   OF   A   BOOK   AGENT. 

control  of  everything.  The  children  were  all  very 
much  opposed  to  mother's  marrying  him,  and  I,  in 
particular,  was  very  bitter  upon  the  subject.  I 
had  early  learned  to  dislike  the  man,  and  I  had  a 
sort  of  intuition  that  evil  would  come  of  this  mar- 
riage if  it  was  finally  consummated.  We  knew 
that  father  had  placed  the  utmost  confidence  in 
Captain  Lake  as  an  intimate  friend  and  a  brother 
Mason  (how  unworthy  he  was  of  that  high  and 
holy  name  let  this  truthful  history  tell),  but  still 
his  strange  neglect  of  our  interests  had  led  us  to 
distrust  him,  and  it  was  believed  that  his  only 
object  in  marrying  our  mother  was  to  get  more 
completely  the  control  of  the  property,  the  more 
effectually  to  carry  out  his  deliberately  formed 
plan  of  robbing  the  orphan  children  of  the  man 
and  brother  who  had  trusted  him  with  all.  The 
elder  children  remonstrated  with  mother  on  her 
contemplated  marriage,  and  I  declared  that  I 
would  never  call  him  my  father  or  acknowledge 
him  as  such. 

But  all  our  remonstrances  and  our  opposition 
were  of  no  avail.  On  the  7th  day  of  March  in  the 
year  1845,  Captain  Charles  Lake  and  my  mother 
were  married,  and  he  was  acknowledged  master  of 
the  house  and  invested  with  the  powers  which  he 
had  so  long  coveted.  The  wedding  took  place  on 
that  blackest  of  all  days  in  the  calendar — Friday — 
and  was  a  very  quiet  affair.  But  few  guests  were 
present,  and  thus  was  accomplished  the  second 
great  sorrow  of  my  life,  Oh!  tongue  can  never 


THE   LIFE   OF   A   BOOK    AGENT.  29 

tell  the  vast  amount  of  sorrow,  arid  wretchedness, 
and  suffering,  which  would  have  been  saved  to  us 
all,  had  mother  but  heeded  the  remonstrances  of 
her  children,  and  foregone  this  marriage.  She 
doubtless  thought,  in  uniting  herself  with  Captain 
Lake,  she  was  promoting  her  own  welfare  and 
happiness  and  that  of  her  children ;  but  in  after 
years,  when  it  was  too  late  for  repentance,  she 
found,  alas !  that  she  had  been  most  sadly 
deceived.  Were  one  disposed  to  be  superstitious 
about  "black  Friday,"  they  could  find  in  this 
marriage  a  very  strong  argument  in  support  of 
their  faith,  and  could  well  exclaim :  "  How  appro- 
priate that  they  should  have  been  married  on  a 
Friday." 

After  the  marriage  of  my  mother,  matters,  so  far 
as  the  children  were  concerned,  were  even  worse 
than  before,  for  whereas,  Captain  Lake  had  before 
given  some  little  attention  to  them  in  order  to 
deceive  my  mother  and  induce  her  consent  to  the 
marriage,  he  now  totally  neglected  them,  and  she 
very  soon  found  that  she  had  injured,  instead  of 
improving,  their  prospects  by  marrying  again. 
Studied  neglect,  then  cool  indifference,  and  finally 
positive  dislike,  took  the  place  of  the  slight  inter- 
est which  the  Captain  had  before  manifested  in  us, 
and  but  a  very  short  time  elapsed  ere  mother  be- 
came aware  that,  in  marrying  the  second  time,  she 
had  committed  the  greatest  mistake  of  her  life. 

Brother  Henry's  health,  meantime,  was  failing 
rapidly.  His  was  a  delicate  frame,  a  finely  organ- 


30  THE   LIFE   OF   A   BOOK   AGENT. 

ized  nervous  system ;  one  of  those  organizations  on 
which  pain  and  sorrow  produce  their  most  blight- 
ing effects,  and  which  are  always  selected  by 
disease  as  their  special  victims.  He  had  almost 
worshipped  our  father  in  his  lifetime,  and  the 
intense  anguish  caused  by  his  death  had  sensibly 
affected  brother's  health,  and  half  produced  effects 
from  which  he  never  recovered.  Some  time  before 
mother's  marriage  it  was  feared  he  was  going  into 
a  decline,  and  about  the  time  of  the  wedding  it 
became  apparent  from  the  hectic  flush  upon  my 
poor  brother's  cheek,  the  hollow,  hacking  cough, 
the  bent  form  and  listless  step,  that  the  fell 
destroyer,  consumption,  had  fastened  its  fangs 
upon  his  delicate  frame.  This  was  the  disease 
with  which  my  poor  father  had  died,  and  Henry 
had  inherited  it  from  him.  The  seeds  had  lain 
undeveloped  in  his  system  until  the  present  time, 
and  perhaps,  but  for  the  weight  of  sorrow  which 
pressed  upon  us  all,  he  might  have  been  spared 
even  for  years.  But  it  is  one  of  the  characteristics 
of  this  fatal  disease  that  its  effects  are  hastened, 
and  its  early  development  promoted,  by  great 
emotions  of  joy  or  sorrow;  and  brother  Henry  was 
no  exception  to  the  general  rule.  The  cloud  of 
sadness  and  grief  which  overshadowed  us  all,  had, 
in  the  most  fearful  degree,  hastened  the  crisis  of 
the  disorder ;  and  now,  when  summer  was  filling 
all  the  earth  with  beauty  and  gladness,  he  was  a 
confirmed  and  hopeless  invalid.  All  that  care  and 
skill  could  do  to  stay  the  onward  march  of  the 


THE   LIFE   OF   A   BOOK    AGENT.  31 

destroyer  was  done,  but  without  avail.  He 
lingered  some  time  ;  like  our  dear  father,  he  clung 
with  sorrowful  tenacity  to  life,  but  at  last  the  time 
had  come  when  the  fell  monster  and  grim  tyrant 
could  no  longer  be  resisted. 

Since  mother's  marriage  the  summer  had  waxed 
and  waned ;  autumn,  with  its  gorgeous  dyes  and 
gaudy  colors,  had  passed  away ;  another  and 
another  round  of  seasons  had  rolled  away  into 
eternity ;  and  when  autumn  leaves  were  again 
falling,  my  brother  was  at  rest.  Sadly  we  laid  his 
mortal  remains  in  the  silent  tomb,  there  to  rest 
until  the  omnipotent  voice  of  Him  who  has  said, 
"I  am  the  Resurrection  and  the  Life,"  shall  sum- 
mon him  from  the  dust  of  the  earth  to  everlasting 
happiness  at  the  right  hand  of  God. 

Upon  my  already  tortured  heart  this  blow  fell 
with  crushing  force.  After  the  death  of  our  father, 
Henry  had  essayed,  so  far  as  was  in  his  power,  to 
supply  his  place  to  me.  He  had  seemed  to  take 
much  more  interest  in  me  than  he  ever  did  before. 
He  had  petted  and  caressed  me  ;  called  me  his 
dear,  his  pet ;  strove  by  all  means  in  his  power  to 
cheer  and  comfort  me,  and  had  succeeded  in 
awakening  in  my  little  heart  a  feeling  of  love, 
second  only  to  that  which  had  warmed  it  toward 
my  poor  papa.  Judge  then,  dear  reader,  of  the 
bitter  anguish  as  I  stood  beside  his  grave,  and 
beheld  the  clods  of  the  valley  piled  upon  his 
breast,  hiding  forever. from  my  earthly  vision  his 
much  loved  form.  What  wonder  that  in  the  utter 


32  THE   LIFE   OF    A    BOOK   AGENT. 

desolation  of  that  moment  I  even  dared  to  murmur 
against  the  justice  of  the  decrees  of  Providence. 
It  seemed  to  me  that  a  blighting,  withering  curse 
was  upon  me.  Every  object  upon  which  I  gazed 
with  the  eyes  of  affection  was  doomed  to  fade  and 
die  before  me. 

"  'Twas  ever  thus  from  childhood's  hour — 

I've  seen  my  fondest  hopes  decay ; 
I  never  loved  a  tree  or  flower, 
But  'twas  the  first  to  fade  away." 

"I  never  nursed  a  dear  gazelle, 

To  glad  me  with  its  soft  black  eye, 

But  when  it  learned  to  love  me  well, 

And  know  me,  it  was  sure  to  die/' 

But  though  my  beloved  brother  was  gone,  I  was 
not  yet  entirely  desolate.  I  had  a  darling  little 
half-sister — one  of  those  cherubs  which  are  said  to 
more  nearly  approximate  the  angels  of  heaven 
than  any  other  created  thing  upon  the  face 
of  the  earth.  At  the  time  of  Henry's  death  she 
was  nearly  a  year  and  a  half  old,  having  been 
born  about  a  year  after  mother's  marriage  with 
Captain  Lake.  She  was,  I  think,  the  sweetest 
child  of  that  age  I  ever  saw ;  so  bright,  so  smart 
and  intelligent,  as  it  were — far  beyond  her  tender 
age.  Oh !  how  I  loved  that  darling  babe.  I  was 
never  so  happy  as  when  I  had  her  in  my  arms,  or 
was  romping  with  her  upon  the  nursery  floor. 
And  the  little  thing  seemed  to  fully  reciprocate  all 
the  love  and  affection  which  I  so  warmly  and 
freely  lavished  upon  her.  I  had  named  her  May, 


THE   LIFE   OF   A   BOOK    AGENT.  33 

and  she,  in  her  childish,  lisping  voice,  always 
called  me  Nin.  "Many  a  time  and  oft"  would 
she  come  to  me,  and,  putting  her  little  white,  soft 
arms  about  my  neck,  would  lisp  out,  "  Me  'ove  oo, 
Mn,"  and  then  put  up  her  little  mouth  for  the  kiss 
she  was  sure  to  receive. 

Besides  her,  there  were  still  little  brother  Frank 
and  sister  Kate.  They  were,  both  of  them,  much 
older  than  I,  and  there  was  but  little  in  common 
between  us ;  but  still  they  were  my  brother  and 
sister — the  offspring  of  a  dearly-loved  father — and 
that  of  itself  was  a  bond  of  sympathy  between  us. 
The  affectionate  reverence  in  which  we  held  the 
memory  of  that  dear,  departed  parent,  would  have 
bound  us  together  even  if  there  had  been  no  other 
ties  existing  between  us,  and  we  were  further 
united  in  a  most  cordial  dislike  of  our  step-father. 
Besides  my  step-father  was  cross  and  abusive  to 
Frank,  and  sympathy  with  him,  under  the  injus- 
tice of  which  he  was  often  the  victim,  had  drawn 
me  yet  closer  to  my  only  remaining  brother. 

But  I  was  soon  to  be  separated  from  them — from 
my  brother  and  sister,  baby  May  and  all.  Father 
had  a  half-brother,  by  the  name  of  Adam  Mason, 
living  in  New  Orleans,  whom  I  had  never  seen, 
though  I  knew  his  wife,  aunt  Kittie.  He  and 
father  had  never  been  on  good  terms  with  each 
other,  though  between  our  family  and  aunt  Kittie 
the  most  kindly  feelings  had  always  existed.  She 
had  visited  us  on  several  occasions,  and  had  taken 

a  great  fancy  to  me — called  me  Tier  girl,  said  she 
3 


34  THE  LIFE   OF   A   BOOK   AGENT. 

was  going  to  take  me  to  live  with,  her — and  did 
all  in  her  power  to  win  my  childish  love  and  affec- 
tion, in  which  efforts  I  must  say  she  was  rather 
successful.  I  loved  her  more  than  any  one  else 
outside  my  own  family ;  but  when,  some  two  and 
a  half  years  after  mother's  second  marriage,  she 
wrote  to  us,  asking  that  I  might  come  and  live 
with  her,  keep  her  company,  and  do  errands  for 
her,  I  felt  my  heart  sink  wkhin  me  at  the  prospect 
of  leaving  the  home  and  friends  to  which  I  was  so 
warmly  attached.  But  my  mother  thought  it  best 
for  me  to  go ;  my  step-father  was  unkind  and 
often  cruel,  not  only  to  me,  but  to  all  the  family, 
and  mother  thought  that,  the  pang  of  separation 
once  passed,  I  would  be  happier  with  my  uncle 
and  aunt — removed  from  the  tyrannical  treatment 
of  my  step-father,  and  beyond  his  blighting  in- 
fluence— than  I  would  be  at  home.  Accordingly, 
it  was  decided  that  my  step-father  should  accom- 
pany me  to  New  Orleans,  place  me  in  the  care  of 
my  uncle  and  aunt,  and  then  return  to  his  home. 
The  arrangements  were  all  made,  and  at  last  the 
day  arrived  upon  which  I  was  to  bid  farewell  to 
home  and  friends,  as  it  seemed  to  me,  forever. 

Ah !  how  shall  I  describe  that  parting  ?  I  was 
to  go  forth  from  home  and  friends  ;  to  exchange 
the  society  of  those  from  whose  companionship  I 
had  never  been  separated,  for  association  with 
comparative  strangers;  to  leave  mother,  brother 
and  sisters,  and  to  accept  in  lieu  of  the  kind  and 
fraternal  attention  I  had  received  from  them,  the 


THE   LIFE    OF    A    BOOK    AGENT.  35 

friendship  of  relatives  of  whom  I  knew  next  to 
nothing,  and  above  all,  I  was  to  be  deprived  of 
that  which  had  been  my  principal  solace  and 
comfort  since  the  death  of  my  brother  Henry — the 
society  of  my  constant  playmate,  baby  May. 
And  to  add  to  the  bitterness  of  my  sorrow,  in  that 
hour  of  parting  from  my  little  cherub,  something 
whispered  me  that  I  should  never  see  her  again 
in  this  world.  Was  it  a  presentiment?  What 
wonder,  then,  that  when  this,  to  me,  sad  day  came, 
I  wept  as  though  my  heart  would  break,  or  that, 
long  after  the  journey  commenced,  I  refused  to  be 
comforted,  and  sat  in  the  corner  of  my  seat, 
sobbing  in  all  the  violence  of  unalloyed  and  un- 
restrained grief  ? 

But  all  things  earthly  must  have  an  end,  and  so 
it  was  with  my  journey  and  my  grief.  We  at 
length  reached  the  Crescent  City,  and  were  re- 
ceived by  my  uncle  and  aunt  with  a  degree  of 
kindness  which  went  far  toward  reconciling  me  to 
my  lot.  After  seeing  me  safely  installed  in  my 
new  home,  and  transacting  some  business  which 
he  had  in  the  city,  my  step-father  prepared  to  return 
home.  Although  I  did  not  love  him,  still  I  hated 
to  see  him  go,  for  it  seemed  like  severing  the  last 
link  that  bound  me  to  home  and  friends.  I  did 
not  shed  any  tears  at  his  departure,  and  yet  it 
must  be  confessed  that  my  heart  swelled  a  little 
as  I  saw  him  walk  away  from  the  house  and  dis- 
appear around  the  next  corner.  My  uncle  and 
aunt  after  his  departure  treated  me,  if  possible, 


36  THE   LIFE   OF   A   BOOK   AGENT. 

with  more  kindness  than  before,  and  apparently 
did  all  in  their  power  to  make  me  happy,  and  in- 
duce me  to  forget,  or  at  least  to  remember  without 
regret,  the  home  I  had  left  behind. 

In  this  they  were  to  a  very  great  extent  success- 
ful. I  was  then  but  about  ten  years  old,  and  at 
that  age  old  forms  and  old  impressions  are  easily 
effaced  from  the  mind.  The  bustle  and  stir  of 
city  life,  the  new  faces  and  new  scenes  presented 
to  my  vision  each  day  of  my  life ;  the  constant 
change  going  on  around  me,  all  conspired  to  wean 
me  from  thoughts  of  home  and  friends,  while  the 
kindness  of  my  uncle  and  aunt  went  far  toward 
supplying  the  place  of  the  protectors  I  had  lost. 
They  were  quite  aged,  and  had  no  children  of 
their  own,  and  upon  me  they  lavished  all  the 
affection  which  would  have  gone  out  toward  their 
own  offspring  had  they  ever  been  blest  with  any. 
Thus  time  passed,  and  I  would  have  been  happy 
could  I  have  had  baby  May  with  me.  But  I  longed 
for  her  society,  and  there  were  times  when,  even  in 
my  happiest  moments,  thoughts  would  rush  across 
my  mind  and  so  stir  up  the  fountains  of  my  heart 
as  to  cause  my  feelings  to  well  up  in  tears  which  I 
could  not  repress. 

The  autunm  leaves  were  falling  when  I  went  to 
live  with  aunt  Kittie,  and  when  the  stern  winter 
months  had  come  and  gone,  and  spring  with  all 
her  beauties  was  upon  us,  my  aunt  one  day  re- 
ceived a  letter  conveying  the  sad  intelligence  that 
both  sister  Kate  and  baby  May  were  very  ill,  the 


THE    LIFE    OF    A    BOOK    AGENT.  37 

latter  with  scarlet  fever.  Upon  hearing  this  news 
I  wanted  to  go  home  at  once,  but  aunt  Kittie  would 
not  consent,  saying  I  would  take  the  fever  if  I 
went.  I  urged  and  entreated ;  almost  implored, 
but  it  was  of  no  avail.  I  felt  sure  May  wanted  to 
see  her  old  playmate  "Nin,"  but  aunt  was  resolute 
in  her  refusal,  and  of  course  my  will  had  to  yield  to 
hers,  and  I  staid.  I  have  now  no  doubt  that  what 
aunt  did  was  for  the  best,  but  at  that  time  it  did 
not  seem  so  to  me,  and  my  spirit  was  strongly  in- 
clined to  raise  up  in  rebellion  against  hers.  And 
had  it  been  possible  for  me  to  have  foreseen  what 
I  now  know,  there  is  but  little  doubt  that  I  should 
have  gone,  despite  aunt's  commands  to  the 
contrary,  or,  at  least  made  an  attempt  to  have 
done  so. 

But  a  few  days  had  passed  when  another  letter 
was  received,  and  this  time  it  bore  the  sable  seal 
which  tells,  even  before  it  is  broken,  the  sad  tale 
of  death,  and  sorrow,  and  mourning.  My  darling 
pet,  my  poor,  dear,  little  May  was  no  more.  How 
I  regretted  that  it  had  not  been  in  my  power  to  see 
her  before  she  died — how  bitterly  I  wept  and  re- 
fused to  be  comforted,  I  leave  to  the  imagination 
of  the  reader.  But  this  was  not  the  only  sad  in- 
telligence which  this  ill-starred  letter  contained. 
Sister  Kate  was  not  expected  to  survive — was, 
indeed,  at  the  point  of  death,  and  there  was  an 
urgent  request  that  I  should  be  sent  home  at  once. 

Of  course,  there  was  no  delay  in  obeying  this 
sad  summons.  Uncle  Adam  accompanied  me,  and 


38  THE   LIFE   OF  A   BOOK   AGENT. 

we  hastened  to  Atlanta  by  the  most  expeditious 
mode  of  conveyance  ;  but,  alas  !  our  speed  was  too 
slow  for  that  of  the  grim  monster  who  was  claim- 
ing my  loved  sister.  When  we  reached  the  old 
plantation  her  voice  was  not  raised  in  kindly 
greeting  to  her  returned  sister ;  she  stretched  forth 
no  hand  to  grasp  mine  in  sisterly  welcome;  her 
eyes  darted  forth  no  beaming  ray  of  love  for  the 
long  absent  one ;  her  heart-throbs  had  ended,  and 
she  was  cold  and  motionless  in  the  embrace  of 
death.  She  had  drawn  her  last  breath  but  ten 
minutes  before  our  arrival.  She  had  died  with  my 
name  upon  her  lips — almost  her  last  words  being 
an  eager  inquiry  for  my  arrival.  This  intelligence 
almost  stunned  me  with  grief.  Why  should  I  be 
thus  tried?  It  almost  seemed  to  me  that  Fate 
was  about  to  empty  her  entire  quiver  of  arrows 
upon  my  devoted  head. 

Reader,  bear  in  mind  that  I  was  at  this  time 
less  than  twelve  years  of  age — recall  the  sorrows 
amid  which  my  young  life  had  thus  far  been  passed, 
and  then  say  was  human  life  ever  so  chastened 
before  ?  First,  I  had  followed  my  loved  father  to 
the  grave — then  came  the  inexorable  summons  for 
him  who  endeavored  to  supply  the  place  made 
vacant  in  my  heart  by  that  first  death,  my  brother 
Henry ;  next,  the  pitiless  monster  called  for  my 
darling  little  May,  and  lastly  sister  Kate  was 
taken  away.  And  to  add  sting  to  the  poignancy 
of  my  anguish,  the  last  two  had  died  in  my 
absence.  It  was  not  permitted  me  to  be  near 


THE   LIFE   OF   A   BOOK    AGENT.  39 

them  in  their  dying  moments ;  to  receive  their 
last  kisses  of  affection;  to  receive  their  latest 
sighs  and  final  adieus ;  but,  far  removed  from  me 
they  had  died,  and  I  could  never  hope  again  to 
listen  to  the  music  of  their  voices  until  the  great 
day.  I  was  then  young,  and  had  not  learned  to 
bow  in  mild  submission  to  the  will  of  "  Our  Father 
who  art  in  Heaven ;"  nor  had  I  learned  that  great 
lesson,  under  all  trials  to  meekly  say,  "  Thy  will 
be  done."  What  wonder  then  that  I  murmured  at 
the  dispensations  of  his  providence,  or  that,  in 
the  abandonment  of  utter  despair,  I  cast  myself 
prostrate  upon  little  May's  grave,  and  prayed  that 
I,  too,  might  die  ?  God  forgive  me  the  wickedness 
of  that  prayer.  I  have  since  learned  to  bear  trials 
with  more  fortitude,  and  have,  I  trust,  learned  to 
bow  with  something  of  submission  to  whatever 
chasten!  ngs  His  hand  may  lay  upon  me,  and  in  so 
doing  have  secured  "  that  peace  which  passeth  all 
understanding." 

The  next  day  a  sad  procession  wended  its  way 
to  the  graveyard,  and  there,  under  the  spreading 
foliage  of  a  mighty  oak,  beside  the  low  mounds 
which  marked  the  last  resting-places  of  brother 
Henry  and  sister  May,  a  third  grave  was  fashioned, 
to  which,  with  appropriate  ceremonies,  we  com- 
mitted the  mortal  remains  of  sister  Kate ;  and 
brother  Frank  and  I  were  alone — the  only  survivors 
of  a  family  of  five  children.  'Tis  true,  our  mother 
was  still  spared  to  us,  but  she  was  so  much  under 
the  influence  of  our  step-father  that  she  seemed 


40  THE    LIFE   OF    A    BOOK    AGENT. 

more  like  a  stranger  than  like  a  blood  relation- 
much  less  a  mother.  And  to  make  our  position 
still  more  unpleasant,  it  was  evident  that  our  step- 
father— our  guardian — the  possessor  of  all  the 
property  which  father  had  left  for  our  benefit,  but 
from  which  we  were  destined  never  to  reap  any 
advantage — he  who  had  solemnly  pledged  to  our 
dying  father  his  honor  as  a  man  and  a  Mason  that 
he  would  befriend  and  protect  his  orphan  children, 
and  who  was  now  only  seeking  to  deprive  us  oi 
our  patrimony — evidently  hated  us,  and  desired 
our  absence,  no  doubt  the  more  effectually  to  carry 
out  his  base  purposes  toward  us. 

It  is  one  of  the  immutable  laws  of  human  nature 
that  when  we  have  done  or  meditate  a  wrong 
toward  another,  the  presence  of  the  one  wronged, 
either  in  thought  or  deed,  becomes  hateful  to  us. 
The  presence  of  the  person  to  whom  we  have  done 
wrong  is  a  sort  of  standing  reproach  to  the  wrong- 
doer— an  ever-present,  active  and  powerful  monitor 
to  the  conscience  which,  however  calloused  and 
seared  with  the  crime  of  years,  can  never  be  wholly 
stilled — ever  condemning  the  crime  which  has  been 
perpetrated,  and  sleeplessly  demanding  restitution. 
Our  step-father  was  no  exception  to  this  general 
law  of  our  nature.  Our  father  had  left  in  his 
hands  a  sacred  trust  to  be  exercised  for  the  benefit 
of  the  orphans  ;  years  had  passed  away  and  not  a 
single  step  had  been  taken  toward  the  execution 
of  that  trust,  but  instead  he  had  by  his  course 
deprived  us  entirely  of  the  benefits  which  our 


THE   LIFE    OF    A    BOOK    AGENT.  41 

father's  legacy  was  intended  to  secure — he  had 
wronged,  robbed  and  defrauded  us,  and  as  a 
matter  of  course  our  presence  was  hateful  to  him. 
Our  sister's  funeral  was  therefore  hardly  over 
until  he  instituted  a  system  of  persecution  against 
us  with  the  evident  intent  to  drive  us  from  our 
home. 

It  were  a  useless,  unpleasant,  and  unprofitable 
task  to  recount  in  detail  the  various  means  resorted 
to  by  him  to  drive  us  from  that  home  which  of 
right  belonged  to  us ;  suffice  it  to  say  that  he  was 
successful — that  our  mother  was  unable,  or  un- 
willing, to  stem  the  tide  which  was  setting  against 
us,  and  that  but  a  short  time  elapsed  after  I  had 
seen  my  sister  Kate  buried  beneath  the  sod  until  I 
was  again  on  my  way  to  the  home  of  my  uncle  and 
aunt  in  the  city  of  New  Orleans.  But  this  time  I 
went  not  alone.  My  brother  Frank — the  last 
survivor  beside  myself  of  our  once  happy  circle  of 
brothers  and  sisters — unable  to  endure  the  annoy- 
ance and  cruelties  which  were  daily  meted  out  to 
him,  accompanied  me,  and  in  due  time  we  reached 
the  city,  where  we  were  kindly  welcomed  and 
tenderly  cared  for  by  our  uncle  and  aunt.  But  we 
will  reserve  for  another  chapter  the  incidents  which 
attended  our  sojourn  there. 


CHAPTER  IY. 

I  MUST  ask  the  reader  to  imagine  that  a  period  of 
three  years  has  elapsed  since  the  close  of  the  last 
chapter.  Brother  Frank  and  myself  are  still  living 
at  uncle  Adam's,  and  have  become  so  thoroughly 
domiciled  there  as  to  regard  it  as  our  home.  During 
all  this  time  our  lives  had  been  one  constant  scene 
of  peace — scarcely  a  ripple  had  occurred  upon  the 
surface  of  the  stream  of  time  as  we  quietly  glided 
down  its  surface  toward  eternity,  and  the  only 
strange  circumstance  I  have  to  record  of  those 
three  years  is  the  fact  that,  in  all  that  time  we  had 
not  once  heard  from  home.  I  do  not  know  whether 
uncle  Adam  or  aunt  Kittie  had  heard  from  there 
or  not;  I  suppose  they  must  have  done  so  at  some 
time  or  other,  but  if  so,  they  never  said  anything 
about  it  to  us.  For  some  time  we  thought  very 
strange  that  mother  did  not  write  to  us,  but  we 
finally  came  to  attribute  it  to  indifference  toward 
ourselves,  and  thus  comparatively  dismissed  the 
subject  from  our  thoughts.  I  have  since  learned 
to  believe  that  this  long  silence  was  brought  about 
by  the  machinations  of  Captain  Lake,  and  was 
part  of  a  deliberately  formed  plan  to  harass 
mother  to  an  untimely  grave,  and  thus  get  more 
complete  control  of  the  property  of  which  he  was 
steadily  and  systematically  robbing  us.  God  for- 
give me  if  I  judge  him  wrongfully;  he  has  griev- 

(42) 


THE   LIFE   OF   A    BOOK    AGENT.  43 

ously  wronged  me  and  mine,  and  yet  I  would  not 
willingly  or  knowingly  charge  him  with  a  single 
crime  of  which  he  is  innocent. 

About  three  years  from  the  time  of  our  last 
arrival  in  New  Orleans,  uncle  Adam  one  day 
brought  home  with  him  a  gentleman  from  the 
neighborhood  of  our  old  home  ;  one  who  intimately 
knew  all  our  family.  Of  course,  the  most  eager 
inquiries  relative  to  the  family  were  at  once  made. 
Judge  of  my  horror  and  surprise  upon  being  in- 
formed by  him  that  my  mother  was  dead — had  been 
dead  then  about  a  year.  Great  God !  could  it  be 
possible  that  my  monster  step-father  had  allowed 
my  mother  to  pine  away  arid  die  without  informing 
her  only  relatives  in  thellnited  States' — her  own 
children — of  the  sad  fact  ? 

"  Yes,"  said  my  informant,  "  it  is  all  true.  It  is 
now  just  about  one  year  since  we  followed  your 
mother's  remains  to  the  tomb." 

"  And  where  is  my  step-father  ? "  I  asked. 

"  He  is  still  upon  the  plantation,  and  is  about 
to  give  it  a  new  mistress.  The  last  time  I  was 
there  he  was  refitting  and  refurnishing  the  place 
for  his  bride,  and  by  this  time  next  week  they  will 
be  married." 

"  What !  did  mother  make  no  disposition  of  the 
plantation  or  other  property  ?  Did  she  leave  all 
our  patrimony,  so  carefully  provided  for  us  by  our 
father,  to  that  wretched  man  whose  whole  efforts 
since  he  took  charge  of  us  beside  our  father's  dying 
bed,  have  been  directed  toward  robbing  us  ?" 


44  THE   LIFE   OF   A    BOOK   AGENT. 

"As  to  that  I  can  not  say.  I  never  heard  of 
any  will  after  the  death  of  your  mother,  and  only 
know  that  matters,  so  far  as  the  property  is  con- 
cerned, appear  to  go  on  just  as  they  did  in  her 
lifetime.  He  still  lives  upon  and  manages  the 
plantation  as  before." 

"Then  God  help  me,"  I  cried;  "I  am  indeed 
desolate  and  alone  in  the  world.  No  father  or 
mother — not  a  single  one  in  whose  veins  runs  a 
drop  of  my  blood,  except  brother  Frank — no 
home — no  means  of  support — what  will  become 
of  me?" 

"  My  child,"  said  he  gently,  u  do  not  give  way 
to  such  paroxysms  of  grief.  Remember  that  God 
helps  those  who  help  themselves,  and  that  He 
has  promised  to  be  the  God  of  the  orphan  and  the 
Father  of  the  fatherless.  Doubtless  some  means 
of  support  will  yet  be  found  for  you  and  your 
brother." 

But,  despite  his  kindly  efforts  to  cheer  me,  I 
refused  to  be  comforted.  She  who  had  gone, 
though  never  treating  me  with  such  affection  as 
parents  generally  evince  for  their  offspring,  was 
still  my -mother,  and  I  sincerely  mourned  her  loss. 
And  then  the  future  looked  very  dark  to  me,  for, 
comparative  child  that  I  was,  I  was  still  able  to 
realize  to  some  extent  our  situation.  Uncle  Adam 
and  aunt  Kittie  were  very  old  and  were  poor ;  we 
had  neither  of  us  ever  been  taught  to  work  for  our 
living ;  our  education  had  been  so  badly  and 
criminally  neglected  by  our  guardian  and  step- 


THE   LIFE    OF   A   BOOK    AGENT.  45 

father  that  we  could  scarcely  ever  hope  to  derive 
anything  from  that  source  ;  the  course  of  that  man 
assured  us  plainly  that  we  had  nothing  to  hope 
from  him  ;  and  what  were  we  to  do?  As  long  as 
uncle  and  aunt  lived,  we  could  have  a  home  with 
them,  but  they  were  both  very  feeble,  and  could 
not  be  expected  to  live  for  a  great  length  of  time, 
and  after  their  death  what  was  to  become  of  us  ? 

It  must  be  borne  in  mind  that  we  were  but 
children,  and  ignorant  of  law  and  our  own  rights, 
and  were  without  any  one  to  advise  or  assist  us. 
Uncle  Adam  did,  I  think,  make  some  effort  to  get 
at  the  right  in  regard  to  our  matters,  but  my  step- 
father had  laid  his  plans  skillfully,  and  had 
so  hedged  himself  about  with  technicalities  and 
the  forms  of  law  that  it  was  impossible  to  reach 
him  except  by  a  long  and  expensive  litigation. 
This  we  could  not  undertake.  We  were  without 
means,  and  uncle  Adam  was  too  poor  to  furnish 
it  to  us;  and  thus  villainy  was  for  the  time 
triumphant,  and  the  orphans  robbed  of  their  just 
dues.  But,  thank  God !  it  will  not  always  be  so. 
There  is  a  time  coming  when  all  that  to  us  has 
seemed  strange  and  unnatural  in  this  life  will  be 
set  right — when  ample  justice  will  be  done — when 
the  secret  of  every  heart  will  be  made  manifest, 
and  when  no  amount  of  ingenuity  will  enable  the 
robber  of  the  orphan  and  the  fatherless  to  escape 
the  just  punishment  of  his  deeds. 

After  this  we  continued  to  live  on  with  uncle 
and  aunt  as  before.  They  had  a  fine,  large  garden, 


46  THE    LIFE    OF   A   BOOK    AGENT. 

and  our  principal  employment  was  to  cultivate 
this  and  dispose  of  the  vegetables.  From  this 
source,  and  the  milk  of  our  one  cow,  we  managed 
to  obtain  a  very  comfortable  support  for  the  entire 
family.  It  must  be  understood  that  my  uncle  had 
no  business,  arid  that  he  was  too  old  and  feeble  to 
do  much  gardening  or  anything  else,  and  hence 
the  principal  support  of  the  family  devolved  upon 
my  brother  and  myself.  He  was  now  about  six- 
teen, and  I  was  about  thirteen ;  our  work  was  not 
hard,  and  we  managed  to  get  along  very  well. 

But  the  seasons  passed  away — spring  had  gone 
— summer  had  followed  in  train,  and  the  gorgeous 
Southern  autumn  had  made  its  appearance,  when 
we  found  that  our  uncle's  lamp  of  life  was  speedily 
dying  out.  The  oil  which  had  so  long  and  steadily 
fed  the  flame  was  exhausted,  and  but  a  short  time 
had  elapsed  when  we  laid  him  to  rest  in  "the 
narrow  house  appointed  for  all  the  living."  Our 
venerable  aunt  sincerely  mourned  for  him  by 
whose  side  she  had  so  long  trod  the  rough  paths 
of  life,  and  grief  at  his  loss  preyed  heavily  upon 
her  enfeebled  frame.  She  became  a  helpless 
invalid,  and  an  object  of  our  constant  care.  It 
was  a  terrible  burthen  for  tw  o  comparative  child- 
ren as  we  were ;  but,  thank  God !  we  never  faltered 
in  the  discharge  of  this  painful  duty.  Looking 
back  tin-ought  the  vista  of  years  to  that  period,  I 
cannot  find  a  single  instance  in  which  my  con- 
science reproaches  me  with  any  dereliction  of  duty 
in  the  care  of  my  aunt. 


THE   LIFE    OF    A    $OOK    AGENT.  47 

But  this  could  not  last  long.  The  scene  was 
evidently  drawing  to  a  close,  and  but  a  few  months 
had  passed  since  the  death  of  uncle  Adam  before 
it  became  painfully  evident  that  she  would  soon 
follow  him  to  the  silent  tomb.  At  length,  one 
bright  spring  morning,  when  all  nature  was  putting 
on  her  gayest  robes,  and  the  whole  earth  was 
brightening  with  smiles,  and  joy,  and  sunshine, 
we  stood  by  the  bedside  of  our  aunt  and  beheld 
the  Angel  of  Death  slowly  o'ershadow  her  with  his 
dark  wing,  while  her  freed  spirit  took  its  flight  to 
realms  of  immortal  bliss,  there  to  rejoin  his  by 
whose  side  she  had  lived  and  moved  so  long. 
With  the  assistance  of  kind  neighbors  we  laid  her 
to  rest  by  the  side  of  him  who  had  gone  so  short 
a  time  before,  and  leaving  them  to  that  repose 
which  shall  never  be  broken  until  the  day  of  the 
last  resurrection,  we  returned,  with  bowed  heads 
and  stricken  hearts,  to  the  lonely  cottage  which 
had  so  long  been  our  home. 

We  were  now  alone,  and  without  means,  and 
consequently  helpless.  We  were  old  enough  to 
know  that  the  future  would  not  take  care  of  itself 
— that  something  must  be  done,  but  just  what  that 
something  was  to  be  we  could  not  tell.  To 
increase  our  distress,  we  now  learned  that  the 
place  we  occupied  did  not  belong  to  our  uncle. 
He  only  had  a  lease  of  it  during  his  lifetime,  and 
we  were  now  really  without  a  shelter  for  our 
heads,  although  the  owner  of  the  cottage  kindly 
consented  that  we  should  remain  where  we  were 


48  THE   LIFE    OF    A    BOOK    AGENT. 

for  a  short  time  until  we  could  perfect  our  plans 
for  the  future.  Many  a  long  and  anxious  conver- 
sation did  we  have  upon  the  subject  before  we 
were  able  to  arrive  at  any  definite  conclusion. 
Various  expedients  were  suggested,  but  each  was 
in  time  found  to  possess  some  fatal  defect,  and 
one  after  another  they  were  rejectejl.  Meantime 
the  days  were  passing  away,  and  something  must 
be  done ;  we  could  not  stay  where  we  were,  and 
our  means  were  about. exhausted. 

At  length,  one  day  my  brother  came  to  me  with 
a  beaming  countenance. 

"  Now,"  said  he,  "  I  will  tell  you  what  we  must 
do.  I  can  get  a  situation  in  St.  Mary's  Parish  as 
a  gardener,  at  fair  wages.  This  will  furnish  me 
a  living  and  enable  me  to  help  you  some,  and 
your  must  go  to  Mrs.  Armstrong's  and  assist  in 
her  housework." 

"  But  suppose  Mrs.  Armstrong  should  not  want 
me  ? " 

U0h!  but  she  does.  This  is  no  new  plan  of 
mine,  and  I  have  been  to  see  her,  and  talked 
matters  all  over  with  her.  Her  ladyship  wants 
you — I  am  sure  she  will  be  kind  to  you,  and  I  see 
nothing  else  for  us  to  do." 

"  But  consider,  Frank,  I  have  scarcely  had  any 
experience  in  doing  housework,  and  I  am  afraid 
she  will  not  be  satisfied  with  me.  If  she  should 
not,  and  should  turn  me  away,  what  then  is  to  be 
done  ? " 

"  She  will  be  satisfied  with  you.     I  have  talked 


THE   LIFE   OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  49 

with  her  about  your  experience ;  know  just  what 
she  expects  and  requires,  and  feel  sure  you  will 
just  suit  her." 

"  But  why  can  we  not  go  to  Georgia  and  compel 
Captain  Lake  to  take  care  of  us." 

"  Sister,  I  would  rather  beg,  or  starve  among 
strangers,  than  to  go  to  that  man  who  has  robbed 
us  of  our  all,  and  ask  charity  at  his  hands.  Never 
will  I  ask  any  thing  of  him.  I  will  die  first." 

"  It  would  be  only  justice." 

"  Yes,  but  until  we  can  demand  it  as  an  act  of 
justice  I  am  not  willing  to  go  and  ask  alms  of 
him.  This  plan  of  mine,  though  unpleasant  in 
some  respects,  will  enable  us  to  earn  an  honest 
living,  and  I  really  see  no  other  course  for*  us  at 
present.  Perhaps  in  the  future  something  better 
may  turn  up." 

So  it  was  finally  settled.  He  went  with  me  to 
Mrs.  Armstrong's  house  and  introduced  me  to  my 
new  mistress.  The  house  was  a  fine,  large 
mansion,  situated  in  a  pleasant  locality,  and 
surrounded  with  trees ;  the  furniture  was  hand- 
some, rich  and  costly,  and  everything  reminded 
me  of  the  home  in  which  my  earlier  years  had 
been  passed.  But,  ah !  how  different  was  my 
situation  from  what  it  was  there.  I  thought  I  was 
unhappy  at  home,  but  there  I  was  a  child,  and  an 
heiress  of  the  wealth  which  surrounded  me ;  here 
I  was  a  servant,  laboring  and  toiling  for  my  daily 
bread.  Mrs.  Armstrong  was  always  kind  to  me, 
but  her  kindness  could  not  comfort  me,  or  cause 


50  THE   LIFE   OF   A   BOOK   AGEXT. 

me  to  forget  that  I  was  a  mere  servant  in  a  house 
similar  to  that  which  should  have  been  my  own, 
had  justice  been  done  me.  Wherever  I  went,  or 
whatever  I  did,  this  reflection  was  ever  present  to 
me,  burning  and  branding  itself  into  my  brain 
until  the  thought  at  last  sort  of  dazed  me.  I  would 
stand  for  an  hour  at  a  time,  motionless  as  a  statue, 
and  when  spoken  to  by  any  one,  would  not  hear  or 
heed  a  word  that  was  said.  I  seemed  in  a  sort  of 
waking  dream. 

This  intense  mental  excitement  at  last  did  its 
work,  and  I  was  prostrated  with  a  brain  fever. 
I  knew  nothing  at  the  time,  and  only  learned  what 
followed  when,  eleven  weeks  after,  I  awoke  as 
from  a  long  trance,  and  found  brother  Frank 
sitting  by  my  bedside.  I  felt  weak,  and  when  I 
attempted  to  address  him,  it  was  with  difficulty 
that  I  could  hear  the  sound  of  my  own  voice. 

"Brother,  what  has  happened?  Why  am  I  so 
weak  ?  Why  are  you  here,  and  how  long  have 
you  been  here?" 

"  Sister,"  said  he,  "  it  has  been  eleven  weeks 
since  you  were  taken  down  with  the  fever,  and  I 
have  been  with  you  all  the  time.  You  first  lost 
your  reason,  and  the  doctor  said  you  would  never 
recover  it.  Then  you  became  speechless,  and  have 
never  uttered  a  sound  since,  and  everybody  said 
you  would  never  speak  again.  I  thought,  Nin,  I 
was  going  to  lose  you,  but,  thank  God !  you  are 
better  now." 


THE   LIFE    OF   A    BOOK    AGENT.  51 

"  Eleven  weeks !  It  can  not  be  possible  that  I 
have  been  sick  so  long." 

"  Oh  !  yes,  it  is  true.  They  all  thought  you 
were  dead  at  one  time,  and  you  would  have  been 
buried  long  ago  if  I  had  consented  to  give  you  up. 
You  were  as  cold  as  ice,  but  your  cheeks  were 
somewhat  flushed,  and  I  could  not  believe  you  were 
dead.  But  it  was  only  when  I  held  a  looking- 
glass  to  your  lips,  and  the  moisture  gathered  upon 
it,  that  I  succeeded  in  convincing  them  that  you 
were  still  living.  This  is  all  that  saved  you  from 
being  buried  alive.  But  you  are  too  weak  to  talk 
at  present.  You  must  lie  still  and  gain  strength, 
and  when  you  are  better  I  will  tell  you  more." 

He  spoke  the  truth.  Even  this  conversation  had 
been  almost  too  much  for  me  in  my  enfeebled 
state,  and,  with  a  sense  of  inexpressible  weariness, 
I  closed  my  eyes  and  again  slept.  When  I  again 
awoke  it  was  mid-day,  and  brother  was  not  there, 
but  in  his  place  sat  one  of  Mrs.  Armstrong's  ser- 
vants. I  lay  and  tried  to  think,  but  the  effort  was 
too  much  for  me,  in  the  enfeebled  and  confused 
state  of  my  brain,  and  I  gave  it  up. 

I  have  often  since  shuddered  at  the  thought  of 
how  near  I  came  to  being  buried  alive,  and  each 
time  that  memory  presents  this  horrible  picture, 
does  my  mind  and  heart  go  out  with  more  of  love 
to  that  brother  whose  constancy  and  fortitude 
saved  me  from  such  a  terrible  fate.  And  often,  in 
the  silent  hours  of  the  night,  does  my  heart  well  up 
with  gratitude  to  the  Giver  of  all  good,  for  bestow- 


52  THE   LIFE   OF   A   BOOK   AGENT. 

ing  upon  me  such  a  faithful  and  trusty  friend. 
But,  at  that  time,  I  felt  that  I  would  almost  as 
soon  have  died  as  not.  I  felt  that  I  was  almost 
alone  in  the  world — a  useless,  helpless  thing,  a 
mere  waif  upon  the  stream  of  time — and  had  it 
not  been  for  the  love  I  bore  the  brother  who 
had  so  tenderly  and  constantly  watched  over  me 
ever  since  poor  Kate's  death,  I  should  have 
wished  to  join  her  in  that  other  world  to  which 
we  are  all  hastening.  But  I  knew  how  it  would 
wring  his  heart  if  his  only  sister  were  to  die ; 
I  knew  he  would  then  have  no  one  to  love  or 
care  for ;  and,  for  his  sake,  I  prayed  to  God  that  I 
might  get  well. 

And  God  heard  my  prayer.  Slowly,  oh !  how 
slowly,  but  surely  and  steadily,  strength  returned 
to  my  emaciated  frame,  and  I  was  at  length  pro- 
nounced out  of  danger.  It  was  long  and  weary 
weeks  before  I  was  able  to  leave  my  bed,  and  the 
weeks  had  grown  into  months  before  they  would 
permit  me  to  go  out  of  doors  ;  but  at  length  it  was 
pronounced  safe  by  the  physician,  and  I  was 
allowed  to  go  into  the  yard  attended  by  a  servant. 
From  this  time  I  gained  strength  more  rapidly ; 
my  excursions  about  the  grounds  were  longer  and 
longer  each  day,  and  at  last  I  was  pronounced,  by 
the  kind  old  physician  who  had  attended  me  during 
the  whole  of  my  sickness,  to  be  convalescent. 

With  the  return  of  my  health  came  an  almost 
irresistible  longing  to  revisit  my  old  home  in 
Georgia.  I  wanted  a  change  of  air  and  scenery ; 


THE   LIFE   OF   A    BOOK    AGENT.  53 

I  wished  to  see  the  dear  old  place  which  my  father 
had  improved;  I  wanted  to  visit  and  water  with 
my  tears  the  graves  of  the  dear  ones  in  that  far-off 
burying  ground.  Brother  Frank  had  gone  back  to 
his  employer  in  St.  Mary's  Parish,  and  I  matured 
my  plans  and  made  my  arrangements  for  going 
before  consulting  him,  for  I  felt  certain  he  would 
oppose  me.  But  my  mind  was  fully  made  up,  and 
I  was  resolved  to  go  at  all  hazards.  I  did  not 
suppose  they  wanted  to  see  me  there,  but  they 
could  do  no  more  than  turn  me  out  of  doors,  and 
I  could  go  to  some  of  the  neighbors.  Go  I  would, 
and  go  I  did. 

When  my  plans  were  fully  matured  and  my 
arrangements  made,  I  then  communicated  my  in- 
tentions -to  my  brother.  As  I  had  foreseen,  he  was 
very  much  opposed  to  my  going,  and  vainly  used 
every  argument  in  his  power  to  dissuade  me  from 
the  undertaking.  He  spoke  of  my  yet  feeble  con- 
stitution, of  the  perils  and  difficulties  of  the 
journey,  and  of  every  other  consideration  which 
his  love  and  solicitude  for  my  farewell  could  sug- 
gest, to  induce  me  to  abandon  the  adventure.  To 
all  that  he  could  urge,  however,  I  was  deaf,  and, 
in  my  turn,  plied  him  with  arguments  to  induce 
him  to  accompany  me,  but  with  equal  want  of 
success.  Finding  all  my  efforts  vain,  I  at  last  bid 
adieu  to  Frank  and  the  kind  friends  who  had  done 
so  much  for  me  during  my  illness,  and  set  out 
on  my  journey  alone.  In  due  time,  and  without 
any  incidents  worthy  of  note,  I  finally  reached 


54  THE   LIFE   OF   A   BOOK   AGENT 

Atlanta.  In  my  enfeebled  state,  however,  the 
journey  had  been  almost  too  much  for  me,  and 
when  I  arrived  there  I  looked  like  one  risen  from 
the  dead.  I  was  myself  startled  at  the  haggard 
appearance  presented  by  my  own  face  as  I  gazed 
in  a  mirror,  and  was  weary  and  worn  out  to  the 
last  degree,  but  after  resting  a  short  time  in  the 
city  I  thought  I  was  strong  enough  to  undertake 
the  journey  out  to  the  plantation,  arid  accordingly 
procured  a  conveyance  and  went  thither. 

When  I  arrived  near  the  place  I  decided  that  I 
would  not  go  at  once  to  the  house — not  being  cer- 
tain of  my  reception — but  thought  it  best  to  go  to 
the  negro  quarters  and  learn  what  I  could  of  the 
situation  of  affairs.  Accordingly  I  left  the  con- 
veyance a  short  distance  from  the  house,  clambered 
over  a  fence,  passed  through  the  orchard,  and  thus 
finally,  by  stealth,  gained  the  cabins  of  the  negroes. 
How  strange  it  seemed  thus  to  steal  my  way  into 
that  place  which  should  be  my  own !  I  felt  like  a 
guilty  thing,  seeking  to  avoid  the  gaze  of  man  as 
I  stole  into  that  inclosure  and  trod  upon  those 
broad  acres  which  of  right  belonged  to  me,  but 
which  I  now  visited  with  fear  and  trembling. 

The  first  one  I  met  was  my  old  nurse,  aunt 
Silvie — the  very  one  of  all  others  I  would  have 
chosen  should  first  welcome  me  to  my  old  home. 
When  she  caught  sight  of  me  she  threw  up  both 
hands. 

"  De  Lor'  bress  you,  chile !  If  dare  aint  little 
Missus  Minnie,  or  am  it  her  ghost  ?" 


THE  LIFE   OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  55 

"  No  aunt  Silvie,  I  am  no  ghost,  but  really  and 
truly  your  own  little  mistress  Minnie." 

"  Bress  you,  chile,  but  you  really  looks  like  a 
ghost,  and  I  most  beliebes  you  is  one.  De  Lor' 
bress  us !  here  I'se  done  been  talkin'  to  a  ghost, 
sho." 

"No,  aunt  Silvie,  I  am  not  a  ghost,  but  am 
really  flesh  and  blood  :  come  and  feel  me." 

"  Den  what  is  de  matter  ?  You  looks  like  you 
had  just  risen  out  ob  de  grabe.  Hab  you  been 
dead  and  just  come  back  to  life?  I 'clar',  if  I 
don't  beliebe  yer  am  a  ghost.  Come  here,  old  man, 
and  see  if  dis  am  Miss  Minnie,  shure  enough,  or 
am  it  just  her  ghost?  Bress  us  !  See  dem  holler 
eyes." 

"  I  tell  you,  aunt  Silvie,  I  am  no  more  nor  less 
than  your  own  child,  little  Miss  Minnie.  I  have 
been  very  sick,  and  have  but  just  recovered." 

"  Recobered !  I  don't  see  de  recober.  You  is 
sick  as  you  can  be.  Jess  look  at  dem  thin  han's, 
and  dem  bony  cheeks,  and  den  say  you  is  recob- 
ered.  I  like  to  know  what  yer  is  recobered." 

By  this  time  uncle  Tom  had  come  up  to  where 
we  were  sitting, 

"  Why,  de  good  Lord-a-massy,  Miss  Minnie,  dis 
aint  you  ?  Why,  is  ye  done  been  dead  and  berried, 
and  come  ter  life  again,  or  wa't  de  Lord-a-massy 
does  ail  yer?" 

"  Why,  uncle  Tom,  I  have  been  sick,  and  have 
just  got  well  enough  to  come  here  and  visit  the 
graves  of  my  dear  ones.  Do  you  think  I  will  be 


56  THE   LIFE   OF   A   BOOK   AGENT. 

welcome    at    the    mansion  ?     I    think    I   will  get 
entirely  well  if  I  can  be  at  the  old  house  awhile." 

"  Bress  ye,  honey,  yer  is  come  her'  to  be  berried 
wid>4er  rest  ob  der  family,  dat  is  what  yer  is." 

"  No,  uncle  Tom,  I  have  come  to  have  aunt  Silvie 
nurse  me  well  again." 

"  Well,  de  old  Capt'in  done  heard  ye's  been 
berry  sick,  and  he  t'inks  ye  is  dead.  Yer  can 
scare  him  to  death  if  yer  likes,  for  we  don't  any 
of  us  like  him — not  an  inch  of  him.  But  de 
missus,  she  am  a  good  'oman,  and  we  all  likes  her. 
She'll  take  good  care  ob  yer,  if  yer  gets  into  her 
good  graces." 

"  Well,  Tom,  you  go  and  see  Mrs.  Lake ;  tell 
her  I  am  here,  and  if  she  will  give  me  a  welcome, 
come  and  let  me  know." 

"  Dat  dis  chile  will  do.  Come,  old  'oman,  make 
Miss  Minnie  somet'ing  for  to  eat.  Has  yer  done 
forgot  yourself  " 

While  he  was  gone  I  had  a  long  talk  with  aunt 
Silvie  about  my  mother,  and  the  cause  and  circum- 
stances of  her  death.  After  Frank  and  I  went  to 
New  Orleans,  matters  had  gone  from  bad  to  worse. 
Captain  Lake  had  treated  her  with  cold  cruelty  and 
indiiference,  until  at  last  her  spirit  sunk  under  her 
trials,  and  she  had  gone  down  to  her  grave  in 
sorrow.  She  had  never  seemed  quite  herself  after 
the  death  of  May  and  Kate,  and  this  rendered  her 
less  able  to  endure  the  ill  treatment  of  her 
husband.  She  had  finally  died — the  doctors  said 
of  fever,  but,  the  negroes  thought,  of  a  broken. 


THE    LIFE    OF    A    BOOK    AGENT.  57 

heart.  For  more  than  a  week  before  her  death 
she  had  been  entirely  deprived  of  her  speech,  and 
had  therefore  said  nothing  about  her  children  in 
her  last  moments.  About  a  year  after  her  death, 
Captain  Lake  married  a  Miss  Blackburn,  and  they 
now  had  a  son  about  three  months  old.  She  also 
told  me  the  Captain  was  now  away  from  home, 
and  that  he  seemed  very  much  attached  to  his  wife 
and  child. 

I  was  acquainted  with  the  Blackburns  before  I 
left  the  place,  and  I  knew  Mary  (his  wife)  to  be  a 
good,  kind-hearted  girl.  Though  much  older  than 
I,  she  had  always  been  very  friendly  toward  me — 
had  always  treated  me  with  the  utmost  kindness, 
and  I  felt  sure  she  would  not  turn  me  away  from 
the  house,  especially  as  she  knew  that  if  I  had  my 
rights,  that  house  and  plantation,  those  broad 
acres  with  their  growing  crops,  those  negroes, 
cattle,  horses  and  other  stock — in  fine,  all  that  was 
there,  would  be  mine.  She  knew  that  it  had  all 
belonged  to  my  father ;  that  Captain  Lake  was 
his  executor,  and  my  guardian,  and  she  must  have 
known  that  he  had  betrayed  his  trust  and  wronged 
me.  I  felt  that  she  knew  all  this,  and  yet  she  was 
my  step-father's  wife.  Still,  I  could  not  believe 
that  that  relation  would  obliterate  all  her  sense 
of  justice  and  morality,  and  I  resolved  in  my  own 
mind  to  appeal  to  her  for  justice  against  her  hus- 
band. The  appeal  could  only  be  rejected,  and 
could  not  make  my  case  much  worse,  and  I  would 
risk  it. 


58  THE   LIFE   OF   A   BOOK   AGENT. 

These  reflections  passed  through  my  mind  very 
rapidly,  and  by  the  time  I  had  arrived  at  this  con- 
clusion I  saw  ;Tom  returning  from  his  interview 
with  Mrs.  Lake.  Although  I  would  not  really 
allow  myself  to  doubt  the  result  of  that  interview, 
still  I  could  not  repress  a  feeling  of  anxiety  as  my 
messenger  drew  near.  What  if  he  had  been  un- 
successful, and  if,  instead  of  the  welcome  I  had 
persuaded  myself  to  hope  for,  he  bore  an  order  for 
my  departure  from  the  place  ?  It  must  be  borne 
in  mind  that  I  was  yet  but  partially  recovered 
from  my  severe  fit  of  sickness,  and  that  both  mind 
and  body  were  reduced  to  a  state  of  almost  childish 
weakness,  and  hence  my  views  of  everything  were 
sadly  distorted  and  awry.  The  reader  must  also 
remember  that  I  was  fasting,  for  when  I  was  in  the 
city  my  anxiety  to  see  my  home  kept  me  from 
eating  anything,  and  since  I  came  here,  though 
aunt  Silvie  had  prepared  a  very  nice  meal  for  me, 
my  agitation  had  been  such  as  to  prevent  me  from 
partaking  of  it.  My  system  was,  therefore,  in  a 
very  poor  condition  to  endure  the  intense  anxiety 
which  oppressed  me,  and  my  agitation  was  so 
great  that  when  I  saw  Tom  coming,  and  knew  that 
the  crisis  of  my  fate  was  at  hand,  my  feelings 
overcame  me  and  I  sunk  to  the  floor.  I  only  heard 
aunt  Silvie  say,  "Dere,  I  tole  her  she  came  here 
to  be  buried  wid  de  rest  ob  de  family,  and  now 
she  is  done  gone  a'ready  widout  seem'  de  grabes 
ob  her  friends."  This  I  heard,  and  then  I  sunk 
into  utter  oblivion  and  unconsciousness. 


THE    LIFE    OF    A    BOOK    AGENT.  59 

When  I  again  opened  my  eyes,  I  was  lying  in  a 
comfortable  bed,  in  a  well  furnished  room.  A  beau- 
tiful, sweet  face,  with  goodness  beaming  from  ev- 
ery lineament,  was  bending  over  me,  and  a  soft, 
low  voice,  which  thrilled  me  with  its  kindly  tones, 
asked  me  if  I  knew  her.  Yes,  indeed,  I  did  know 
her.  It  was  Mary  Blackburn,  or  Mrs.  Charles 
Lake,  as  I  should  rather  say.  I  looked  around  the 
room.  With  what  a  thrill  of  satisfaction  did  I 
realize  the  fact  that  I  was  in  the  same  room  I  had 
occupied  when  I  lived  in  that  house  with  my  moth- 
er, now  dead  and  gone.  Everything  in  the  room 
was  the  same  as  when  I  had  last  seen  it.  There 
was  the  same  old-fashioned,  high-post  bedstead, 
with  its  rich  crimson  canopy ;  the  same  wardrobe 
and  bureau  stood  in  the  corner  of  the  room ;  the 
same  chairs  were  arranged  along  the  wall;  the 
same  carpet  was  on  the  floor,  and  all  was  just  the 
same  as  memory  so  faithfully  reproduced  it  to  my 
imagination.  Everything,  did  I  say  ?  No,  one 
thing  was  gone,  and  I  sought  in  vain  for  it — it  was 
baby  May's  crib,  with  the  lovely  face  of  its  occu- 
pant ;  and  as  I  looked  in  vain  for  them,  sad  mem- 
ory reminded  me  in  thunder  tones  of  the  many 
changes  which  had  taken  place  since  I  last  occu- 
pied that  room,  and  it  was  with  the  utmost  diffi- 
culty that  my  tears  could  be  repressed. 

Mrs.  Lake  waited  until  I  had  completed  my  sur- 
vey of  the  room  and  its  furniture,  and  then,  in  her 
sweet,  musical  voice,  replete  in  every  tone  with 
kindness,  she  said : 


60  THE   LIFE   OF   A   BOOK   AGENT. 

"  I  have  had  this  room  arranged  for  you,  as 
nearly  as  I  could  remember,  just  as  you  used  to 
have  it.  Are  you  pleased  with  it,  or  would  you 
prefer  to  lie  in  some  other  room  ?" 

"  I  thank  you  most  heartily  and  sincerely  for 
your  kindness  to  me,"  said  I.  "I  would  rather  be 
in  my  own  room  than  any  other" — then  recollect- 
ing myself,  I  hastened  to  add,  "  or  rather,  what  was 
once  my  own  room." 

"  It  is  yours  still,  Minnie,"  said  she,  "  it  shall  be 
yours  just  as  long  as  you  choose  to  occupy  it.  We 
will  do  all  in  our  power  to  make  you  happy  just  as 
long  as  you  see  proper  to  stay  with  us.  And  then 
I  have  a  little  playfellow  for  you — a  baby  whom 
you  can  pet  as  you  used  to  little  May.  I  know 
you  are  passionately  fond  of  Children,  but  now  you 
must  not  talk  any  more ;  you  must  go  to  sleep 
now,  and  when  you  are  rested  I  will  bring  my  lit- 
tle pet  to  you." 

"  Yes,  I  will  try  to  be  calm,  but  I  must  ask  one 
or  two  questions.  Where  is  Captain  Lake  ?  Does 
he  know  I  am  here  ?  And  how  long  have  I  been 
here  ?" 

"  My  dear  child,  you  ask  too  many  questions  in 
one  breath.  You  have  been  here  just  two  days. 
The  Captain  is  away  from  home,  was  away  when 
you  came,  and  will  not  be  at  home  for  a  month  to 
come.  But  if  he  were  here  he  would  welcome  you 
kindly,  and  would  be  glad  to  see  you,  I  am  sure. 
So  be  quiet  now,  and  take  your  rest,  and  I  will  go 
and  prepare  something  for  you  to  eat." 


THE    LIFE    OF    A    BOOK    AGENT.  61 

With  that  she  stooped  down,  and,  kissing  my 
pale,  hollow  cheek,  left  the  room.  After  she  went 
out,  I  lay  still  and  tried  to  compose  myself  to 
sleep,  but  the  effort  was  in  vain.  Busy  memory 
was  at  work  with  the  past,  and  would  not  allow 
my  worn  out  body  to  rest.  I  thought  over  all  the 
incidents  which  had  transpired  since  I  last  occu- 
pied that  room;  the  trials  and  sorrows  through 
which  I  had  passed ;  the  scenes  of  death  I  had  wit- 
nessed ;  the  troop  of  friends  whom  I  had  seen  fade 
and  die  from  around  me  like  autumn  leaves :  my 
uncle  and  aunt,  sister  Kate  and  baby  May — all,  all 
passed  in  mental  review  before  me,  and  I  could  not 
but  wonder  why  it  was  that  they  were  all  taken 
away  and  I  was  spared.  Doubtless,  in  the  inscru- 
table mysteries  of  the  providence  of  God  there  was 
good  reason  for  this  ;  but  why  I  should  have  been 
selected  from  among  them  all,  to  endure  this  great 
weight  of  bereavement  and  sorrow,  was  far  beyond 
my  feeble  comprehension.  Another  subject  of  con- 
templation with  me,  and  one  from  which  I  experi- 
enced a  most  bitter  sense  of  anguish,  was  the  awful 
contrast  between  what  my  situation  was  at  the 
present  time,  and  what  it  was  then,  and  would  be 
now,  had  not  the  foulest  injustice  lent  its  aid  to 
increase  the  evils  which  Providence  had  seen  fit  to 
visit  upon  me.  Then  I  was  in  the  midst  of  compar- 
ative affluence,  ease  and  comfort — unhappy  in 
some  respects,  it  is  true,  but  still  far  from  misera- 
ble ;  now  I  was  a  wretched  outcast,  without  a 
home,  without  friends,  without  means  of  support, 


62  THE   LIFE    OF    A    BOOK    AGENT. 

and  actually  dependent  upon  the  charities  of  others 
for  a  place  in  which  to  lay  my  miserable  head,  and 
for  the  little  sustenance  necessary  to  keep  life 
within  my  enfeebled  frame.  Then  occurred  the 
thought,  most  horrid  of  all :  what  if  I  should  again 
be  sick,  as  I  was  at  Mrs.  Armstrong's  ?  I  was  in 
high  fever,  and,  of  course,  my  mind  was  to  some 
extent  disordered,  and  took  but  a  distorted  view  of 
all  subjects,  and  I  could  not  divest  myself  of  the 
impression  that  my  illness  was  about  to  assume 
the  same  terrible  phase  it  then  did — in  which  event, 
without  my  brother's  fraternal  care,  I  should  surely 
die — nay,  perchance,  be  buried  alive,  as  was  so 
near  being  the  case  before.  The  idea  of  death 
would  not  have  been,  of  itself,  so  very  terrible  ;  but 
with  it  was  connected  the  thought  that  my  brother 
would  never  know  of  it.  It  did  not  occur  to  me 
that  in  case  of  serious  illness  those  around  me 
would,  of  course,  notify  him  of  the  fact ;  but  the 
dread  of  being  forever  lost  to  him  was  most  insup- 
portable. Then  my  cogitations  assumed  another 
form,  and  filled  me  with  unspeakable  physical  ter- 
ror. What  if  I  should  be  ill  when  Captain  Lake 
returned,  and  he  should  be  angry  with  me  for  com- 
ing there,  to  be  a  burden  to  him  ?  His  anger  would 
most  certainly  kill  me.  Or  what  if,  in  his  wrath, 
he  should,  despite  my  enfeebled  condition,  turn  me 
from  his  house,  to  live  or  die  as  best  I  might  1 
What  would  become  of  me  then  ? 

Thus  these  vagaries  chased  each  other  through 
my  brain  until  it  almost  went  wild,  and  I  am  sure 


THE    LIFE    OF    A    BOOK    AGENT.  63 

I  should  have  become  utterly  distracted  but  for  the 
return  of  Mrs.  Lake  to  the  room.  She  came  in 
with  a  sweet  smile  on  her  lip,  and  a  lovely  little 
babe  in  her  arms,  upon  which  she  gazed  with  all 
the  pride  and  affection  which  fills  the  heart  of  a 
young  mother  for  her  first-born. 

"Here,  Minnie,"  said  she,  "is  my  baby,  my  own 
darling  little  pet ;  don't  you  think  he  is  a  perfect 
little  cherub  ?" 

"  He  is  certainly  very  beautiful,"  I  said,  gazing 
with  delight  upon  the  sweet,  innocent  face,  yet  free 
from  the  corroding  marks  of  care  and  sorrow.  "  You 
must  love  him  dearly." 

"  Oh  !  indeed  I  do.  And  you  will  love  him  too," 
she  continued,  laying  the  laughing  babe  upon  my 
arm.  "  Why,  Minnie,  you  look  like  a  young  moth- 
er with  the  babe  in  your  arms." 

I  looked  in  its  angel  face.  It  was  almost  the  ex- 
act picture  of  my  darling,  lost,  little  May,  at  its 
age.  It  had  the  same  large,  deep-blue  eyes,  and 
dimpled  chin  ;  the  contour  of  the  forehead  was  the 
same  as  hers ;  the  same  fat,  dimpled  chin  was 
hers;  the  features  were  all  identical  with  hers, 
and  as  my  eyes,  at  a  glance,  took  in  all  these  de- 
tails, I  for  a  moment  half  thought  my  darling  had 
come  back  to  me.  But  in  another  instant  came  the 
recollection  that  I  had  seen  her  grave  and  watered 
it  with  my  tears,  and  nothing  short  of  the  power  of 
Omnipotence  itself  could  ever  restore  her  to  my  lov- 
ing embrace  again,  and  I  turned  away  my  head  and 
wept  bitterly.  I  could  not  help  it.  The  recollec- 


64  THE    LIFE    OF    A    BOOK    AGE.NT. 

tion  of  the  happiness  I  had  once  enjoyed  with  her 
whom  it  so  nearly  resembled,  and  who  was  for- 
ever gone  from  my  grasp,  was  too  much  for  me,  and 
I  sobbed  as  though  my  heart  would  break.  Mrs. 
Lake  respected  my  grief,  because  she  divined  its 
cause,  and  her  heart  was  one  to  appreciate  such 
emotions.  She  waited  until  the  violence  of  my 
emotion  was  passed,  and  then  quietly  removing  the 
babe,  she  gently  smoothed  my  hair  and  said  : 

"  You  must  now  take  your  rest,  Minnie,  and 
when  you  get  stronger  you  shall  have  baby  again , 
and  I  know  you  will  learn  to  love  him  almost 
as  much  as  I  do." 

And  she  was  right.  Day  after  day  my  affection 
for  the  child  and  its  mother  grew  in  strength,  and 
at  length  I  learned  to  look  and  long  for  nothing 
so  much  as  the  coming  of  Mary  Lake  with  her 
sweet,  innocent  babe.  I  was  always  very  fond  of 
children,  and  especially  loved  a  pretty  babe  during 
the  days  of  infancy — this  was  almost  the  exact 
picture  of  her  whom  I  had  once  loved  more  than 
any  other  human  being — what  wonder,  then,  that 
my  heart  should  have  gone  out  towards  this 
precious  one  almost,  or  quite,  as  it  did  toward  my 
own  dear  sister,  sweet  little  May.  Yes,  I  could 
love  him,  though  I  knew  he  was  destined  to  come 
between  me  and  my  rights.  Though  fully  aware 
that  he  would  inherit  the  Hamilton  estates — that 
property  which  should  have  been  mine — there  was 
no  envy  in  my  heart  toward  him.  I  did  not  blame 
him  for  the  crimes  of  his  ancestor,  andl  loved  him 


THE    LIFE   OF    A    BOOK   AGENT.  65 

with  all  the  fervor  of  my  nature.  Yes,  he  was  the 
sunlight  of  my  life,  during  the  long  and  weary 
days,  weeks  and  months  of  the  confinement  which 
followed  that  relapse.  He  was  my  only  solace  and 
comfort  then. 

Wearily  the  lazy  hours  dragged  themselves 
away,  confined,  as  I  was,  a  close  prisoner  to  my 
room.  The  hours  grew  into  days,  days  into  weeks, 
arid  weeks  into  months,  and  still  languid,  helpless, 
I  lay,  longing  once  more  to  behold  the  outer  world, 
and  fretting  at  the  close  confinement  I  was  endur- 
ing, but  utterly  unable  to  leave  my  room.  Would 
I  ever  be  able  to  go  out  again  ?  It  seemed  doubt- 
ful, and,  even  now,  I  feel  that  to  the  kind  and 
affectionate  care  of  Mary  Lake,  and  the  cheering 
companionship  of  her  lovely  babe,  I  am  indebted, 
under  the  Giver  of  all,  for  my  restoration  to  health 
and  strength. 

But  I  must  not  lose  sight  of  brother  Frank  during 
this  long  and  gloomy  illness.  I  received  several 
letters  from  him  during  the  period  of  my  confine- 
ment to  my  room,  for  which  my  heart  was  full  of 
gratitude  to  him,  and  which  were  a  source  of  great 
comfort  to  me,  for  he  was  now  my  all.  He  was 
still  at  work  in  St.  Mary's  parish,  and  was  doing 
very  well.  He  often  spoke  of  coming  to  see  me, 
but  the  urgency  of  his  duty  to  his  employer  pre- 
vented it.  Ah !  how  I  would  have  prized  a  visit 
from  him,  but  if  this  could  not  be,  it  was  still  no 
little  consolation  to  know  that  he  thought  of  me. 

The  winter  had  passed  away,  and  it  was  a  bright 


66  THE    LIFE    OF    A   BOOK    AGENT. 

morning  in  spring  when  I  was  able  to  leave  the 
house  for  the  first  time  for  weeks.  "With  what  a 
sense  of  exhilaration  I  gazed  upon  all  nature,  clad 
in  her  gayest  robes,  and  inhaled  the  soft,  balmy 
air,  and  listened  to  the  music  of  the  feathered 
songsters,  as  they  made  the  air  vocal  with  their 
melody,  I  leave  the  reader  to  imagine.  Ask  the 
wretched  prisoner  who,  after  months  of  weary  con- 
finement in  his  solitary  cell,  to  which  the  feeblest 
rays  of  the  sunlight  of  God  but  seldom  penetrate ; 
where  the  walls  reek  with  filth  and  dampness,  and 
the  atmosphere  is  tainted  with  foul  a;jd  noisome 
smells  ;  where  the  only  living  creatures  beside 
himself  are  the  moles,  and  rats,  and  vermin,  with 
which  his  gloomy  abode  is  thronged ;  who  has  al- 
most felt  hope  die  out  within  his  breast,  as  day  after 
day  passed  into  eternity,  and  brought  with  it  no 
hope  of  release,  is  suddenly  restored  to  the  blessed 
sunlight  of  liberty  and  freedom,  what  his  feelings 
are— receive  his  answer,  and  you  can  form  some 
idea  of  my  feelings  at  my  release  from  the  gloomy 
bondage  of  pain  and  weakness  which  I  had  en- 
dured. I  felt  that  God  had  bestowed  upon  me  a 
new  lease  of  life,  and  my  heart  was  full  of  thank- 
fulness to  Him  who  had  thus  far  watched  over  and 
protected  me  all  along  the  journey  of  life.  There 
had  been  times  when,  in  my  heart  of  hearts,  I  had 
wished  that  my  life  might  end — that  the  voyage 
so  full  of  bitterness  and  woe  as  mine  had  been, 
might  be  brought  to  a  close  ;  but  with  the  sense  of 
returning  health  and  strength,  after  my  prolonged 


THE    LIFE    OF    A    BOOK    AGENT  67 

illness,  came  new  thoughts,  new  hopes,  arid  new 
aspirations.  Yes,  I  would  live,  and  would  try  to 
render  my  life  a  source  of  happiness  to  others,  and 
thereby  to  myself — would  endeavor  so  to  live  that 
when  He  should  see  fit  to  call  me  I  would  neither 
fear  death  as  a  monster,  nor  welcome  him  as  a 
friend,  but  would  receive  him  with  the  calm  resig- 
nation of  the  Christian  who  obeys  without  reluc- 
tance the  invitation  of  his  Master  to  cease  from 
his  labors  on  earth  and  enter  the  paradise  of 
eternal  rest  on  high.  Who  of  my  readers,  upon 
arising  from  a  long  and  painful  confinement  to  a 
sick  bed,  have  not  had  the  same  feelings  and 
formed  the  same  resolutions — to  be  perhaps  kept, 
and  perhaps  broken. 


CHAPTER  Y. 

How  grateful  to  the  sense  of  the  patient  who  has 
been  for  weeks,  or  it  may  be  for  months,  confined 
to  the  bed  of  sickness,  consumed  with  fever,  and 
racked  with  pain,  is  the  balmy  air  of  spring, 
especially  in  the  latitude  of  central  Georgia.  It 
seems  to  me  almost  impossible  to  conceive  of  any- 
thing more  delicious,  more  invigorating,  or  more 
health-giving,  than  the  breezes  which,  during  the 
months  of  the  season  aptly  termed  the  youth  of 
the  year,  come  sweeping  up  from  the  Atlantic 
Ocean,  retaining  in  their  journey  of  an  hundred 
miles,  that  peculiar  freshness  imparted  to  them  by 
the  salt  water,  and  ladened  with  the  perfume  of 
the  magnolia,  the  lilac  and  the  thousand  other 
fragrant  flowers  for  which  central  Georgia  is  so 
justly  celebrated.  The  system  must  be,  indeed, 
sadly  shattered,  which  does  not  attain  some- 
what of  strength  and  vigor  under  their  kind 
ministrations. 

Thus  it  was  with  me.  The  days  wore  on,  and 
with  each  returning  sun  came  additional  feelings 
of  vigor  and  healthfulness.  It  must  be  borne  in 
mind,  however,  that,  for  the  greater  part  of  a  year, 
with  but  one  brief  interval,  I  had  been  a  helpless 
invalid,  my  system  the  seat  and  prey  of  disease, 
my  vitals  almost  consumed  by  the  burning  fever 

(68) 


THE   LIFE    OF    A    BOOK    AGENT.  69 

which  had  been  my  constant  attendant,  and  of 
course  it  was  to  be  expected  that  some  time  would 
elapse  before  a  system  so  reduced  and  disordered 
would  be  restored  to  its  normal  condition  as 
regards  strength  and  vigor.  My  improvement, 
therefore,  though  sure  and  constant,  was  so  slow 
as  at  times  to  excite  considerable  impatience 
in  my  mind.  With  renewed  health  had  come  the 
desire,  ten  times  intensified,  to  visit  the  grave 
which  I  had  traveled  so  far  to  water  with  my  tears, 
and  it  may  be  that  my  anxiety  on  this  subject,  to 
some  extent,  retarded  my  convalescence. 

It  had  been  but  short  time  from  the  day  on 
which  I  had  been  first  permitted  to  visit  the  world 
out  doors  and  inhale  the  fresh  air,  after  my  long 
confinement,  when  I  received  a  shock  which,  for  a 
time,  threatened  to  reduce  me  to  the  condition  of  an 
invalid  again.  It  will  be  remembered  that  in  the 
first  interview  between  Mrs.  Lake  and  myself,  she 
told  me  that  her  husband  would  not  be  at  home  for 
a  month.  That  month  grew  into  two,  before  the 
business  which  called  him  from  home  could  be  ad- 
justed to  his  satisfaction:  two  months  lengthened 
themselves  into  three,  and  the  business  still  proving 
refractory,  the  whole  winter  was  consumed  before 
it  could  finally  be  closed  up.  Mrs.  Lake  and  I  had, 
therefore,  been  alone  all  the  winter,  and  in  the  en- 
joyment of  unrestrained  intercourse  with  her,  I  had 
almost  insensibly  forgotten  my  dependent  and 
lonely  situation,  but  it  was  suddenly  recalled  most 
vividly  to  my  recollection. 


70  THE   LIFE   OF    A    BOOK    AGENT. 

A  letter  arrived  from  Captain  Lake,  written  from 
a  town  but  a  short  distance  from  us,  in  which  he 
informed  his  wife  he  should  follow  the  letter,  and 
would  be  at  home  on  the  next  day.  My  agitation, 
on  being  informed  of  this,  by  Mrs.  Lake,  was  ex- 
treme and  very  painful,  and,  for  a  time  threatened 
to  prostrate  me  again.  I  could  not  divest  my  mind 
of  the  reflection  that  I  was  but  a  trespasser  on  his 
bounty,  and  in  all  probability  a  most  unwelcome 
guest,  though,  in  justice  and  equity,  my  right  there 
was  superior  to  his.  Still  the  power  was  with  him, 
and  my  old  pet  horror  returned  most  vividly  to  my 
mind.  "  What  if  he  should  drive  me  from  the 
house  ? "  In  my  present  state  of  health  it  would 
be  fatal  to  me.  Nay,  even  an  unkind  or  harsh 
word,  an  angry  look  from  him,  would,  in  my  en- 
feebled condition  of  both  mind  and  body,  be  at- 
tended with  the  most  serious  consequences.  In 
vain  Mrs.  Lake  tried  to  cheer  me  with  the  assurance 
that  my  fears  and  apprehensions  were  utterly 
groundless — in  vain  she  assured  me  that  the  Cap- 
tain would  make  me  welcome,  and  treat  me  with 
kindness.  It  was  impossible  for  me  to  dismiss 
from  my  mind  the  recollections  of  the  dislike,  nay, 
almost  hatred,  which  formerly  existed  between  us, 
and  now  that  he  had  the  power  to  still  further 
gratify  that  hatred,  would  he  not  be  likely  to  ex- 
ercise it  ?  Besides  the  memory  of  the  foul  wrong 
he  had  already  done  me  was  ever  present  to  my 
mind.  There  we  were  upon  the  very  scene  where 
that  wrong  had  been  perpetrated,  and  my  presence 


THE   LIFE    OF    A    BOOK    AGENT.  71 

would  be  a  standing  reproach,  and  rebuke  to  him. 
What  so  natural  as  that  he  should  ask  to  remove 
this  living  reproof  of  his  infamy  by  sending  me 
from  the  plantation  ? 

These  thoughts  and  apprehensions  so  worked 
upon  me  that  I  retired  to  my  room  and  went  to 
bed,  feeling  almost  certain  in  my  own  mind  that 
the  morrow  would  again  see  me  a  homeless  out- 
cast, dependent  upon  the  cold  charities  of  the  world, 
and  of  comparative  strangers,  for  the  poor  boon  of 
a  shelter,  and  the  food  necessary  to  sustain  life. 
My  head  ached  violently,  and,  for  a  time,  it  seem- 
ed to  me  that  I  was  again  about  to  be  attacked 
with  the  dreaded  fever,  so  high  was  my  state  of 
mental  excitement ;  but,  as  night  came  on  my  mind 
became  somewhat  more  composed,  and  at  length  I 
sunk  into  a  dreamy,  uneasy  slumber. 

The  next  morning  I  awoke  feeling  very  wretch- 
edly. The  excitement  of  the  day  before  had  pros- 
trated my  entire  nervous  system  to  a  very  great 
extent.  I  had  a  dull,  nervous  headache,  and  a 
sense  of  weariness  and  lassitude  oppressed  my  en- 
tire frame  to  the  last  degree.  I  felt  so  badly  that 
I  did  not  rise  from  my  bed  at  all,  and,  to  tell  the 
truth,  I  was  not  sorry  that  there  was  a  sufficient  ex- 
cuse for  me  to  retain  my  own  room.  I  dreaded 
meeting  Captain  Lake,  and  was  desirous  of  avoid- 
ing what  I  was  certain  would  be  a  sad  calamity  to 
me  as  long  as  possible,  never  once  reflecting  that 
we  must  meet  sooner  or  later,  and  that  delay  would 
only  injure,  instead  of  improving,  my  chances.  I 


72  THE   LIFE   OF   A    BOOK    AGENT. 

therefore  kept  my  bed,  only  engaging  aunt  Silvie 
(who  had  been  my  constant  nurse  all  through  my 
illness)  to  tell  me  when  the  Captain  came,  and  what 
he  said  in  relation  to  me. 

But  the  morning  hours  dragged  slowly  by,  and 
no  aunt  Silvie  came.  I  was  feverish  with  anxiety, 
and  speculated  all  the  forenoon  upon  the  probable 
result  of  the  coming  interview.  Fancy  still  pre- 
sented to  me  the  most  terrible  consequences  as 
likely  to  result  from  that  interview,  but  having  be- 
come somewhat  accustomed  to  their  contemplation, 
I  no  longer  dreaded  them  as  I  did  in  the  shock 
caused  by  the  first  announcement  of  the  Captain's 
speedy  return.  Still  I  could  not  divest  myself  of  a 
considerable  degree  of  uneasiness  ;  and  my  intense 
anxiety  to  have  it  over  with,  and  know  my  fate, 
became  almost  insupportable  as  hour  after  hour 
passed  away,  and  my  faithful  messenger  came  not. 

It  was  almost  noon  when  aunt  Silvie  came  to  my 
room  with  the  intelligence  that  the  Captain  had 
made  his  appearance.  How  my  heart  beat  as  I 
listened  to  the  few  words  in  which  she  imparted 
this  simple  information.  How  I  longed,  yet  dreaded, 
to  inquire  what  the  Captain  had  said  about  me,  or 
whether  he  had  been  informed  of  my  presence  in 
his  house.  For  some  time  I  hesitated  in  painful 
indecision  as  to  whether  I  should  ask  her  anything, 
or  wait  until  my  fate  chose  to  reveal  itself,  but  at 
length  my  anxiety  overmastered  every  other  f  -el- 
ing,  and  I  addressed  my  sable  nurse  thus : 


THE   LIFE    OF   A   BOOK    AGENT.  73 

"  Well,  aunt  Silvie,  does  the  Captain  know  I  am 
here,  and  what  does  he  say  about  me  ? " 

"Yes,  Miss  Minnie,  he  knows  ye  is  here.  Missus 
done  told  him  when  he  most  first  in  de  house." 

"  What  did  he  say  when  she  told  him  ?  Did  he 
appear  to  be  angry  or  displeased  at  my  coming  \ 
What  did  he  say  ? " 

"He  didn't  say  much  ob  any  t'ing.  He  only 
say,  '  I  t'ought  she  was  dead  long  ago ;'  arid  den 
missus  tell  him  you  was  berry  sick,  and  came  ber- 
ry near  dyin'.  " 

"  But  what  else  did  he  say,  Silvie  ?  Tell  me  all 
he  said." 

"  Why,  Miss  Minnie,  he  only  said  what  I'se  done 
tole  you,  and  nuthin'  more." 

"  Did  Mrs.  Lake  tell  him  how  long  I  had  been 
here  ? " 

"  Yes,  missus  she  done  tole  him  when  you  came 
here,  and  how  you  was  most  dead  when  you  corned, 
and  how  she  done  tuck  care  ob  you,  and  she  did  n't 
tell  him  I  tuck  most  ob  de  care  of  ye  ;  and  den  he 
say,  ' My  dear,  you  done  ebery  t'ing  just  right;' 
and  den  missus  she  look  kinder  pleased,  and  den 
dey  talk  about  sumfin'  else." 

"  Did  -he  appear  to  be  angry  when  she  told  him 
how  long  I  had  been  here  ? " 

"No,  Miss  Minnie,  he  just  say  what  I'se  done 
tole  you." 

"  Did  he  say  any  thing  about  brother  Frank  ?" 

"  Yes,  he  ax  where  he  was,  and  what  he  was 
doing ;  and  missus  done  tole  him  all  about  him> 


74  THE   LIFE   OF   A   BOOK   AGENT. 

den  he  say  he  was  glad  he  was  doing  so  well." 

"  What  else  did  he  say,  aunt  Silvie  ? " 

"He  didn't  say  nothin'  else." 

"Aunt  Silvie,  do  you  think  he  will  send  me 
away,  or  will  he  'let  me  stay  here,  where  I  have 
really  more  right  than  he  has  ? " 

"  No,  Miss  Minnie,  I  do  not  t'ink  he  will  send 
you  away.  Missis  wouldn't  let  him  do  so  if  he 
done  wanted  to.  I  guess  he  will  not  say  much  to 
you  if  you  don't  say  much  to  him." 

At  this  moment  Mrs.  Lake  came  into  the  room 
and  directed  aunt  Silvie  to  go  and  bring  my  dinner. 
As  soon  as  the  negress  had  fairly  got  out  of  the 
room  she  came  close  to  me  and  kissing  me,  said : 

"Well,  Minnie,  you  have  not  been  up  to-day. 
The  Captain  has  come  and  wishes  to  see  you.  Can 
you  get  up  and  come  into  the  drawing-room  for  a 
short  time  ?  He  will  make  you  welcome,  just  as  I 
told  you  he  would." 

"  Please,  Mrs.  Lake,  excuse  me  to-day.  My  head 
aches  very  badly,  and  I  do  not  feel  well  and  strong 
enough  to  meet  the  Captain  to-day.  Indeed  I  am 
not  able  to  get  up." 

"  Perhaps  your  headache  is  caused  in  part  by 
lying  in  bed  so  long,  and  it  may  relieve  you  to  get 
up.  Come,  Minnie,  you  must  come  down  stairs. 
The  Captain  wishes  to  see  you,  and  besides  he  has 
brought  home  with  him  a  handsome  young  widower, 
with  whom  he  says  you  must  get  acquainted.  Who 
knows  but  you  may  get  him  for  a  husband  ?  "  said 
she  playfully 


THE   LIFE   OF   A   BOOK    AGENT.  75 

I  was  but  just  turned  of  sixteen,  had  never  been 
in  company  any,  or  seen  much  of  the  world,  and 
her  remark  about  the  handsome  young  widower 
brought  the  blood  to  my  face.  However,  I  insisted 
upon  being  excused,  assuring  her  that  my  head- 
ache was  too  severe  to  admit  of  my  rising.  My 
real  reason  for  declining  to  get  up,  however,  was 
because  I  did  not  feel  well  enough,  or  strong 
enough,  to  encounter  the  agitation  of  meeting  the 
Captain,  and  besides  I  knew  that  I  looked  like  a 
ghost.  Was  it  a  tinge  of  ordinary  female  vanity 
that  led  me  to  avoid,  if  possible,  meeting  this 
handsome  widower  in  my  present  wretched-looking 
condition  ?  At  any  rate,  I  said  to  myself  I  could 
keep  my  bed,  under  pretense  of  illness,  until  he 
went  away ;  but  to  my  dismay,  Mrs.  Lake  told  me, 
the  next  moment,  that  he  was  going  to  stay  for 
several  days,  and  it  might  be  for  weeks.  Of  course, 
all  thought  of  avoiding  him  had  to  be  given  up, 
but  still  I  adhered  to  my  resolution  not  to  meet 
him,  or  the  Captain  that  day.  Mrs.  Lake  finally, 
seeing  that  it  was  useless  to  urge  the  matter,  gave 
it  up,  and  I  was  left  alone ;  and  right  glad  was 
I  to  be  in  company  of  my  own  thoughts  once 
more. 

Though  still  somewhat  in  doubt  as  to  the  manner 
in  which  Captain  Lake  would  treat  me,  I  antici- 
pated much  from  the  kindly  feeling  which  I  knew 
Mrs.  Lake  had  for  me,  and  from  her  intercession 
in  my  behalf,  and  I  felt  much  more  hopeful  of  my 
future  than  had  been  the  case  for  a  long  time. 


76  THE   LIFE    OF   A    BOOK    AGENT. 

Could  it  be  that  Providence  had  meted  out  to  me 
the  full  measure  of  my  afflictions,  and  that  the 
residue  of  my  life  was  to  be  passed  in  comparative 
comfort  ?  Time  alone  can  tell ;  but  at  any  rate, 
after  the  interview  with  Mrs.  Lake,  just  referred 
to,  my  heart  was  more  at  peace  than  it  had  been 
for  years.  That  night  I  slept  soundly,  and  awoke 
next  morning  very  much  refreshed,  and  feeling 
much  stronger  than  on  the  day  previous. 

It  was  a  lovely  day,  and  I  dressed  myself  and 
went  down  stairs.  I  did  not  see  Captain  Lake  or 
the  widower  till  tea  time,  however.  I  did  not  get 
up  in  time  for  breakfast,  and  immediately  after  the 
morning  meal  they  went  to  the  city  to  transact 
some  business,  whence  they  did  not  return  until 
long  after  the  dinner  hour  was  past.  I  was  in  my 
own  room  when  the  bell  rang  for  tea,  and  upon 
going  down  was  greeted  by  the  Captain  with  a 
kindness  which  was  as  unexpected  as  it  was 
pleasant  and  grateful  to  my  feelings.  His  •  wel- 
come was  not  merely  cordial,  it  was  really  kind 
and  affectionate,  and  in  the  grateful  surprise  of  the 
moment,  I  for  a  short  time  forgot  the  great  wrong 
he  had  done  me,  and  my  heart  warmed  toward 
him  in  spite  of  myself.  How  much  of  his  kind- 
ness was  produced  by  my  spiritual,  almost  un- 
earthly appearance,  how  much  by  some  motive  he 
had  in  view,  and  how  much  by  genuine  sympathy 
and  affection,  I  leave  each  reader  to  judge  for  him- 
self in  the  light  of  the  most  truthful  history. 

I  was  next  presented  to  Mr,  Giles,  "  the  hand- 


THE    LIFE    OF   A    BOOK    AGENT.  77 

some  young  widower,"  as  Mary  Lake  had  called 
him  ;  but,  it  being  almost  my  first  introduction  to 
any  one,  I  was  so  much  embarrassed  that  I  hardly 
dared  look  at  him,  or  even  raise  my  eyes  from  the 
floor.  Immediately  after  this  ceremony  we  took 
our  seats  at  the  tea  table,  and  I  then  had  an 
opportunity  to  observe  him  more  closely.  I  did 
not  think  him  very  handsome,  nor  was  he  bad 
looking ;  perhaps  better  looking  than  the  average 
of  mankind.  He  was  of  medium  height  and  well 
proportioned,  neither  too  stout  or  too  slender,  his 
form  was  erect  and  manly ;  he  had  auburn  hair, 
blue  eyes,  light  complexion,  and  his  countenance 
expressed  more  than  ordinary  intelligence.  Alto- 
gether he  was  one  to  attract  a  second  glance  from 
any  one  who  was  as  susceptible  to  the  effect  of 
good  looks  as  I  was.  He  was  an  excellent  conver- 
sationalist, capable  of  pleasing  almost  any  society 
into  which  he  might  be  thrown,  and  his  elegant 
manners,  and  the  delicate  little  attentions  he  paid 
me  during  the  meal,  made  a  very  favorable  im- 
pression upon  me. 

Before  we  left  the  table,  Caroline,  the  nurse, 
€ame  in  with  Mrs.  Lake's  baby.  She  had  taken 
more  than  usual  pains  in  attiring  him,  and  the 
care  with  which  he  was  dressed,  added  to  his 
natural  loveliness,  made  him  as  sweet  an  appear- 
ing child  as  I  ever  saw  in  my  life.  When  baby 
had  been  sufficiently  admired,  caressed,  and  com- 
mented upon  to  satisfy  even  as  fond  and  proud  a 
mother  as  Mary  Lake,  Mr.  Giles  went  on  to  speak 


THE    LIFE    OF   A    BOOK    AGENT. 

of  Ms  own  babe  and  his  other  children.  He  had 
been  married  when  very  young,  and  had  three 
children,  all  boys.  The  youngest  was  only  about 
six  months  old,  and  had  been  deprived  of  a  mother's 
care  almost  from  the  time  of  his  birth,  his  mother 
having  died  when  he  was  only  about  a  week  old. 
The  others  were  aged,  respectively,  about  two  and 
a  half  and  four  years,  and  all  were  sadly  in  need 
of  that  care  and  attention  which  only  a  mother 
could  give  them. 

Thus  the  evening  wore  away  in  pleasant  and 
interesting  conversation,  interspersed  from  time  to 
time  with  music,  and  when,  at  its  close,  I  retired 
to  my  room,  my  heart  was  lighter,  and  I  felt 
happier  than  I  had  for  many  a  long  day.  It  was 
late,  however,  before  my  eyes  were  closed  in  sleep. 
Mr.  Giles  had  been  quite  attentive  to  me  during 
the  entire  evening,  and,  as  these  were  the  first 
attentions  I  had  ever  received  from  one  of  the 
opposite  sex,  my  mind  was  in  a  perfect  whirl  of 
pleasant  excitement.  Already,  in  imagination,  I 
saw  myself  the  wife  of  Eugene  Giles,  the  mistress 
of  his  establishment,  and  the  mother  of  his  boys. 
He  was  in  comfortable  circumstances,  so  far  as 
worldly  property  was  concerned.  I  was  passion- 
ately fond  of  children,  and  knew  I  could  love  him 
best ;  and,  •  altogether,  fancy  might  have  presented 
a  mnch  more  unpleasant  fate  to  my  mental  vision. 
I  did  not  love  or  dislike  him,  nor  had  I  any  reason 
to  suppose  that  the  vision  presented  to  me  would 
ever  be  fulfilled,  but  it  must  be  remembered  that 


THE   LIFE    OF   A    BOOK    AGENT.  79 

I  was  then  ignorant  of  the  world  and  its  ways,  and 
to  my  simple  ideas  the  attentions  which  every 
gentleman  naturally  pays  to  a  lady  were  indica- 
tive of  love  and  speedy  marriage.  Let  not  the 
reader  blame  my  simplicity  or  laugh  at  my  igno- 
rance. I  have  since  learned  to  appreciate  such 
attentions  at  their  true  value. 

From  this  time  I  date  a  new  era  in  my  life.  I 
had  long  been  accustomed  to  regard  myself  as  a 
bark  drifting  helplessly  on  the  ocean  of  life,  with 
no  one  to  care  for  me,  or  to  interest  themselves  in 
my  fate  ;  no  one  who  cared  in  the  slightest  what  be- 
came of  me,  without  hope,  or  end,  or  aim,  or  in- 
ducement to  live,  and  had  become  careless  as  to 
what  became  of  myself.  Now  all  was  changed.  I 
felt  that  I  was  no  longer  the  helpless  child  of  des- 
tiny, but  was  a  woman,  with  something  to  live  for, 
some  end  to  accomplish ;  and  though  it  was  not 
entirely  clear  to  me  what  my  future  was  to  be,  still 
I  was  not  alone  in  the  world,  a  mere  useless  atom 
of  creation.  That  first  evening  spent  with  Mr. 
Giles,  in  Mrs.  Lake's  parlor,  was  to  me  the  birth  of 
a  new  life.  I  went  to  the  tea-table  that  evening  a 
careless,  aimless,  and  helpless  child ;  I  went  to  my 
room  a  woman  in  spirit,  thought,  and  action,  with 
all  a  woman's  hopes,  fears  and  aspirations  devel- 
oped within  my  heart. 

Time  passed  on,  and  Captain  Lake  and  his  wife 
continued  to  treat  me  with  the  utmost  kindness. 
No  allusion  was  made  to  my  leaving  there,  and  in 
a  few  weeks  I  came  to  be  regarded,  and  to  regard 


SO  THE   LIFE   OF   A    BOOK   AGENT. 

myself,  as  a  member  of  the  family,  and  never  al- 
lowed myself  to  reflect  what  would  be  the  end  of 
this  season  of  comfort  and  contentment,  if,  indeed, 
it  should  ever  end  but  with  life.  During  all  this 
time  my  health  was  constantly  improving  ;  and  re- 
stored vigor  of  body,  as  well  as  contentment  of 
mind,  with  plenty  of  air  and  exercise,  were  fast  re- 
moving all  traces  of  my  late  fearful  and  prolonged 
illness.  The  wasted  form  and  haggard  counte- 
nance, the  hallow,  lusterless  eye  and  colorless 
cheek,  and  the  halting,  uncertain  step  of  convales- 
cence were  rapidly  being  replaced  by  the  rounded 
form,  the  bounding  step,  and  the  bloom  and  fresh- 
ness of  youth. 

Mr.  Giles,  meantime,  had  been  very  constant  in 
his  attentions  to  me.  For  several  days  after  that 
first  evening  he  had  remained  an  inmate  of  the 
Lake  mansion,  during  which  time  he  constantly 
sought  my  society,  and  as  constantly  bestowed  up- 
on me  the  most  tender  and  delicate  attentions — 
attentions  which  I  was  only  too  willing  to  receive. 
Did  I  wish  to  walk  about  the  grounds  ?  His  arm 
was  ever  at  my  service.  If  I  wished  to  ride  out,  it 
was  he  who  ordered  the  carriage  and  drove  the 
spirited  horses  ;  he  was  my  constant  attendant  in 
every  scheme  of  exercise  and  pleasure,  and  never 
wearied  in  caring  for  my  comfort  and  happiness. 
Such  attentions  won  upon  my  feelings,  and  I  soon 
learned  to  look  upon  him  as  something  more  than 
a  friend,  and  to  anticipate  the  fulfillment  of  the 


THE   LIFE   OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  81 

vision  which  fancy  had  presented  to  me  as  I  lay 
upon  my  couch  after  that  first  evening. 

At  length  he  had  concluded  certain  negotiations, 
in  which  he  was  engaged,  for  the  purchase  of  a 
livery  stable  in  Atlanta,  arid  the  time  had  arrived 
when  he  must  cease  to  be  an  inmate  of  the  Lake 
mansion,  and  go  to  the  city  and  take  charge  of  his 
property,  and  superintend  the  business  in  person. 
I  hated  to  see  him  go,  for  I  had  become  very  much 
attached  to  him,  and  though  no  word  had  been 
spoken  between  us,  I  felt  assured  in  my  heart  that 
he  loved  me.  But  there  was  no  help  for  it,  and  he 
went  away,  and  for  some  time  I  saw  but  little  of 
him.  He  came  out  occasionally,  however,  to  see 
us ;  then  his  visits  grew  more  and  more  frequent, 
until  at  last  I  learned  to  look  for  him  almost  every 
day,  and  he  very  seldom  disappointed  me.  He  be- 
came a  constant  visitor,  and  never  appeared  (as  I 
really  never  was)  so  happy  as  when  he  was  by  my 
side,  engaged  in  animated  conversation,  or  reading 
to  me  from  some  interesting  book.  He  frequently 
spent  nearly  the  whole  day  at  the  plantation,  and 
a  marriage  between  us  at  an  early  day  came  to  be 
a  subject  of  general  conversation  among  the  ser- 
vants, but  still  he  had  not  spoken. 

One  beautiful  evening,  we  were,  as  usual,  seated 
beside  each  other,  on  a  low  bench,  in  the  garden, 
admiring  the  beauty  of  the  setting  sun.  For  some 
time  we  sat  in  silence.  "  The  fiery  orb"  had  dis- 
appeared from  view,  twilight  was  deepening  around 
us,  and  still  neither  spoke  or  moved.  With  me, 


82  THE   LIFE    OF    A    BOOK    AGENT. 

memory  was  busy  with  the  gloomy  past,  and  I 
could  not  help  contrasting  that  fact  with  my  pres- 
ent happy  condition.  Suddenly  he  caught  my 
hand,  and  poured  forth  into  my  ear  the  oft-told  tale 
of  love,  and  asked  me  to  be  his  wife.  He  told  me  how 
lonely  he  had  been  since  the  death  of  his  wife — 
how  his  children  needed  a  mother's  care — how  des- 
olate the  world  seemed  to  him,  and  begged  me  to 
cheer  his  loneliness  and  brighten  all  his  future  by 
giving  him  the  right  to  call  me  his.  As  for  his 
ability  to  take  care  of  me,  he  was  in  good  circum- 
stances, could  give  me  a  good  home,  and  had  an 
abundance  to  maintain  me  in  comfort,  and  even 
luxury — would  I  consent  ?  I  was  startled,  and  told 
him  I  was  too  young  to  marry  ;  that  we  knew  but 
little  of  each  other,  and  ought  to  wait  until  we  were 
better  acquainted;  that  Captain  Lake  was  my 
guardian,  and  I  did  not  know  what  he  would  say 
to  our  marriage.  To  this  he  replied  that  he  had 
already  spoken  to  the  Captain,  and  had  his  permis- 
sion to  make  me  his  wife.  My  other  reasons  he 
met  with  a  lover's  argument,  and  a  lover's  impetu- 
osity, and  still  implored  me  to  accede  to  his  wishes. 
During  this  scene,  I  was  trying,  as  well  as  I  could 
under  the  circumstances,  and  amid  the  excitement 
which  I  naturally  felt,  to  analyze  my  feelings  to- 
ward him.  I  thought  I  did  not  love  him  as  I  ought 
before  becoming  his  wife,  yet  he  was  dearer  to  me 
than  any  one  else  of  my  acquaintance;  his  earn- 
estness sort  of  terrified  me,  and  when  he  said,  u  Say, 
Minnie,  will  you  be  a  mother  to  my  children  ?  "  I 


THE   LIFE   OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  83 

tried  to  answer  him,  but  could  not — the  words 
choked  me,  and  I  remained  silent,  but  did  not  with- 
draw my  hand  from  his  grasp.  He  waited  a  short 
time  for  an  answer,  but  I  could  not  speak — and 
when  he  said,  "  Shall  I  take  silence  for  consent?" 
I  only  looked  up  into  his  eyes.  He  was  answered ; 
and,  clasping  me  in  his  arms,  he  kissed  me  with  all 
a  lover's  fire  and  ardor — the  first  kiss  I  had  ever 
received  from  him. 

And  thus  it  was  settled  that  I  was  to  become  his 
wife — to  give  up  my  freedom,  my  individuality, 
my  all,  into  his  keeping.  Oh !  could  some  kind 
angel  have  lifted,  for  one  moment,  the  vail  which 
shrouded  the  dim  future,  and  have  shown  me  the 
misery,  shame,  and  wretchedness,  which  were  to  be 
the  results  of  that  first  kiss,  methinks  I  would  soon- 
er have  leaped  into  an  abyss  of  living  fire  than 
have  suffered  his  lips  to  come  in  contact  with  mine. 
But  in  the  inscrutable  mysteries  of  God's  provi- 
dence^ the  future  is  wisely  hidden  from  our  view, 
and  fortunate  it  is  for  us  it  is  so.  At  the  time,  my 
only  thought  was  that  I  had  at  last  found  rest ; 
that  the  troubles  and  sorrows  which  had  thus  far 
beset  my  life  were  now  at  an  end ;  that  in  the  fu- 
ture I  was  to  know  nothing  but  peace  and  quiet, 
and  recur  to  the  past  only  as  some  horrid  dream  or 
nightmare.  How  far  my  imagination  was  from  the 
reality,  let  future  pages  disclose. 

From  this  time  I  saw  more  of  my  lover  than 
ever  before.  He  was  with  me  almost  constantly, 
and  was  unwearied  in  his  efforts  to  please  me  and 


84  THE    LIFE    OF    A    BOOK    AGEJST. 

gratify  my  every  wish.  He  was  exceedingly 
solicitous  to  anticipate  and  supply  every  desire  of 
my  heart,  and  never  seemed  so  happy  as  when  he 
was  doing  something  for  me,  or  in  some  way  con- 
tributing to  my  comfort  and  happiness.  Such 
earnest  and  unwearied  devotion  could  riot  fail  to 
produce  its  effect,  and,  in  time,  I  learned  to  love 
Eugene  Giles  with  all  the  force  of  my  nature.  My 
disposition  was  naturally  very  affectionate  and 
tender.  It  is  a  necessity  with  me  to  have  some- 
thing to  love,  and  hence,  as  is  the  case  with  all 
similiar  natures,  when  love  is  once  aroused,  it 
absorbs  and  overwhelms  every  other  feeling  of  my 
soul.  Thus  it  was  with  my  feelings  toward  my 
betrothed.  I  soon  grew  to  be  lonely  and  unhappy 
in  his  absence,  and  to  sigh  constantly  for  his 
return ;  but  when  by  his  side,  all  thoughts  of 
sorrow  were  forgotten,  and  no  one,  it  seemed  to  me, 
could  be  happier  than  I  was. 

I  also  found  great  pleasure  in  the  society  of  his 
children,  whom  he  often  brought  to  see  me, 
frequently  leaving  them  with  me  the  entire  day. 
As  has  already  been  stated,  I  am  passionately 
fond  of  children,  and  these  were,  I  think,  the 
sweetest  little  boys  I  ever  saw  in  my  life.  Besides, 
they  were  the  children  of  him  to  whom  I  had 
pledged  my  hand,  and  whom  I  loved  with  all  the 
fervor  and  intensity  of  which  my  soul  was  capable. 
"What  wonder  that  I  should  have  dearly  loved,  and 
should  have  been  so  happy  in  their  society  ? 

But  time  passed,  and  my  lover  began  to  grow 


THE   LIFE    OF    A    BOOK    AGENT.  85 

impatient  to  have  the  day  set  for  our  marriage. 
With  the  timidity  natural  to  a  young  girl,  I  still 
insisted  upon  a  postponement,  and,  whenever  he 
broached  the  subject,  managed  to  put  him  off  in 
some  way,  until  at  length  he  became  too  importu- 
nate to  be  resisted,  and  with  the  sanction  of 
Captain  Lake,  the  7th  of  September  ensuing,  being 
my  seventeenth  birthday,  was  fixed  for  our  union. 
We  were  to  be  married  at  the  Episcopal  church  in 
Atlanta,  and  it  was  arranged  that  after  the  wedding 
we  were  to  go  to  the  city  of  New  York,  and  other 
places  in  the  North,  and  to  return  in  about  three 
months.  Meantime  our  house  was  to  be  fitted 
up  for  our  occupancy,  and  immediately  upon 
our  return  we  were  to  commence  housekeeping 
in  Atlanta. 

It  would  no  doubt  be  very  interesting  to  my 
lady  readers — at  any  rate,  men  say  we  have  un- 
bounded curiosity  in  such  matters — if  I  were  to 
describe  the  bustle  and  confusion  which  pervaded 
the  Lake  mansion  during  the  few  weeks  which 
intervened  before  my  wedding  day — the  laces,  the 
satin,  berages,  and  other  goods  which  were  brought 
into  the  house  to  be  made  up  into  wedding-dresses, 
traveling-dresses,  and  all  other  kinds  of  dresses — 
the  small  army  of  dress-makers  and  seamstresses 
who  were  employed  in  the  house  to  work  up  all 
this  finery ;  but  the  task  would  be  a  hopeless  one, 
and  I  forbear.  Brother  Frank,  too,  was  to  be 
sent  for,  for  I  could  not  think  of  being  married  in 
his  absence,  and  without  his  blessing.  Captain 


86  THE   LIFE   OF   A   BOOK   AGENT. 

Lake  kindly  took  charge  of  this  part  of  the  pro- 
gramme, and,  accordingly,  informed  Frank  of  the 
entire  contemplated  arrangement,  and  in  due  time 
received  a  reply  from  him,  saying  he  would  be 
present  at  the  wedding,  arid  would  then  accom- 
pany us  to  New  York  on  his  way  to  California, 
whither  he  had  determined  to  emigrate,  the  Cali- 
fornia fever  being  then  at  its  height. 

At  length  the  eventful  day  arrived,  and  a  lovelier 
day  never  dawned  upon  this  earth  than  that  upon 
which  I  became  Mrs.  Eugene  Giles.  There  was 
not  a  cloud  to  be  seen  in  the  skies ;  the  air  was 
mild  and  balmy,  and  came  to  us  in  a  gentle  breeze 
ladened  with  the  perfume  of  the  gayest  flowers  of 
a  Southern  autumn  ;  the  orchards  were  laden  with 
a  bounteous  crop  of  fruit,  now  ripening  in  the 
mellow  sunlight;  the  earth  was  groaning  under 
the  burden  of  a  bounteous  crop  of  corn,  cotton,  arid 
other  products  of  the  sunny  fields  of  the  South ; 
and  all  nature  seemed  swelling  with  thankfulness 
to  the  Great  Giver  of  all  good.  Need  I  say  that 
my  heart  partook  of  the  general  emotion,  shared 
the  great  voice  of  nature,  and  that  I  was  that  day 
the  happiest  of  all  the  happy  throng  I  saw  around 
me? 

I  trembled  a  little  when  we  stood  before  the 
holy  man  of  God  to  promise  the  words  which  were 
to  bind  us  together  for  a  lifetime,  but  it  was  not 
with  fear  or  dread.  A  deep  sense  of  the  solemnity 
of  the  act  we  were  performing,  a  vivid  apprecia- 
tion of  the  immense  responsibilities  I  was  assum- 


THE   LIFE   OF   A   BOOK    AGENT.  87 

ing,  rested  upon  me,  and  caused  a  sort  of  shudder- 
ing agitation  lest  I  should  be  unable  to  fully  dis- 
charge those  responsibilities ;  and  when,  in  answer 
to  the  question  of  the  minister,  I  promised  to  be 
a  good  and  faithful  wife  to  him  who  stood  by  my 
side,  to  love  and  honor  him  so  long  as  we  both 
should  live,  in  my  heart  of  hearts  I  ratified  the 
solemn  promise,  and  uttered  a  secret  vow  to  my 
Maker  that  it  should  be  kept  in  spirit  as  well  as 
in  letter,  and  that  I  would  be  to  my  husband  all 
that  my  obligation  implied.  If  every  girl  who 
becomes  a  wife  had  as  full  an  appreciation  of  the 
solemnity  of  the  step  they  take  in  so  doing  as  I 
had ;  if  they  as  fully  realized,  and  as  religiously 
observed  the  obligations  imposed  by  the  marriage 
contract  as  I  did,  we  should  have  fewer  divorce 
cases,  less  unhappy  homes  and  domestic  quarrels, 
and  fewer  instances  of  husbands  abandoning 
their  wives  and  children  for  the  false  and  fleeting 
charms  of  licentious  dissipation.  I  by  no  means 
excuse  men  for  their  derelictions  in  this  respect, 
but  I  most  firmly  believe  that,  in  many  instances, 
they  are  driven  to  this  course  of  conduct  through 
the  fatal  mistakes  of  those  who  should  be  their 
guardian  angels  in  the  hour  of  temptation,  but 
who,  not  understanding,  or  not  regarding  the 
obligations  of  the  marriage  contract,  drive  them 
from  the  homes  where  they  should  find  happi- 
ness to  the  haunts  of  dissipation,  in  search  of 
those  enjoyments  which  are  elsewhere  denied  to 
them.  To  do  this  it  is  not  necessary  that  the 


88  THE   LIFE   OF   A   BOOK   AGENT. 

wife  should  be  cross  or  quarrelsome  or  peevish, 
though  these  are,  doubtless,  very  potent  agencies 
for  evil.  But  if  she  ceases  to  render  home  attrac- 
tive, and  pleasant,  and  cheerful ;  if  she  ceases  to 
practice  on  the  husband  the  thousand  little  arts 
by  which  she  won  the  attention  of  the  lover, 
my  word  for  it,  that  wife  will,  when  it  is  too  late, 
and  when  her  husband  has  been  irreclaimably 
driven  from  her  side,  realize  the  full  force  of  the 
mistake  she  has  made.  It  is  true  there  are  men 
so  debased  by  nature  and  early  education  as  to  be 
incapable  of  reformation,  but  in  a  majority  of 
instances  the  wife  has  the  remedy  in  her  own  hands, 
and  if  she  fails  to  apply  it,  she  will,  in  time,  awake 
from  her  lethargy  to  find  herself  the  most  miser- 
able of  human  beings — a  despised,  neglected  and 
forsaken  wife. 

But  to  return  from  this  digression.  The  cere- 
mony was  performed,  and  we  returned  to  the  Lake 
mansion  for  dinner,  after  which  we  were  to  go  to 
Atlanta,  for  the  purpose  of  starting  on  our  wedding 
tour.  It  was  a  gay  party  which  sat  down  to 
dinner  that  day  in  Mrs.  Lake's  dining  room. 
The  dinner  was  excellent;  every  one  was  in  the 
very  best  of  humor,  and  mirth,  wit  and  merriment 
were  the  order  of  the  day,  and  each  one  vied  with 
the  others  in  doing  honor  to  the  happy  groom  and 
his  bride,  and  to  our  hospitable  entertainers. 
Wine,  too,  lent  its  aid  to  increase  the  hilarity,  and 
for  a  time  the  demon  Care  was  entirely  banished 
from  our  midst.  But  the  dinner  at  last  ended,  the 


THE    LIFE    OF    A    BOOK    AGENT.  89 

old  family  carriage  was  at  the  door,  trunks  were 
packed  and  loaded  upon  the  clumsy-looking 
vehicle,  adieus  were  hastily  spoken,  kisses  and 
promises  to  write  were  exchanged,  and  we  entered 
the  carriage  and  were  rolled  away  in  the  direction 
of  Atlanta. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

OUR  journey  to  New  York,  though  devoid  of  any 
incidents  worthy  of  note,  was  to  me  very  tedious 
and  tiresome.  My  husband  was  unremitting  in  his 
attention  to  my  comfort,  and  did  all  he  possibly 
could  to  relieve  the  tediousness  of  travel.  But  I 
was  unaccustomed  to  journeying,  and  it  was  a  very 
great  relief  to  me  when  we  at  last  found  ourselves 
in  the  city  of  New  York.  We  took  rooms  at  the 
St.  Nicholas  Hotel,  and  retired  very  early,  but  I  was 
too  weary  to  sleep,  and  for  a  long  time  after  my 
husband  had  yielded  to  the  influence  of  the  drowsy 
god,  I  lay  awake  and  contrasted  my  present  situa- 
tion with  what  it  was  a  year  and  a  half  ago.  Then 
I  was  a  kitchen  servant  in  the  family  of  a  Southern 
aristocrat;  now  I  was  the  honored  wife  of  a  man 
of  sufficient  wealth  to  maintain  me  in  ease  arid  lux- 
ury, and  who  had  already  shown  that  his  disposi- 
tion was  entirely  commensurate  with  his  ability  to 
provide  everything  necessary  for  my  comfort.  Was 
I  not  a  happy  woman  ?  Loved,  petted  and  caressed, 
as  I  was,  by  one  whom  I  thought  the  perfection  of 
earthly  nobility ;  loving  him  with  all  the  affection 
of  which  my  soul  was  capable ;  possessed  of  tlie 
means  to  gratify  every  rational  wish  ;  what  more 
had  I  to  desire  ? 

But  there  was  one  thing  for  which  I  would  will- 

(90) 


THE   LIFE    OF   A    BOOK    AGENT.  91 

ingly  have  bartered  all  I  possessed.  It  will  be 
remembered  that  my  father  had  provided,  by  his 
will,  for  the  proper  education  of  all  his  children; 
but,  through  the  fraud  and  dishonesty  of  our  guar- 
dian, the  benefit  of  this  provision  had  been  with- 
held from  us.  It  must  '.be  observed  that  at  the 
South  we  had  not  the  benefit  of  the  Northern  sys- 
tem of  free  schools,  by  which  every  one,  however 
poor,  is  enabled  to  obtain  a  sufficient  education  for 
all  the  ordinary  purposes  of  life ;  and  the  kind  old 
uncle  with  whom  my  youthful  days  had  been  spent 
was  too  poor  to  afford  me  any  advantages  in  this 
respect.  Hence  I  had  grown  up  with  scarcely  any 
education  at  all,  and  now  I  felt  the  deprivation 
more  keenly  than  I  ever  had  before.  I  had  never 
ventured  to  tell  Mr.  Giles  of  my  deplorable  igno- 
rance ;  though  frequently  intending  to  do  so,  a 
sense  of  shame  had  always  kept  me  quiet,  and  I 
had  waited  for  "  a  more  convenient  season,"  ever 
dreading  the  loss  of  respect,  and  consequently  of 
his  affection,  when  he  should  learn  how  ignorant  I 
was.  But  I  knew,  of  course,  he  must  find  it  out 
some  time  ;  and  to  have  been  able  to  avoid  this 
discovery  I  would  have  given  anything  save  only 
his  love.  But  the  discovery  was  even  nearer  than 
I  thought. 

To  such  an  extent  had  my  education  been  neg- 
lected that,  though  I  could  read  a  little,  I  could 
not  write  a  single  word,  not  even  my  own  name. 
Frank  could  write  a  little,  so  that  it  could  be  read 
by  any  one  accustomed  to  reading  writing ;  but  I 


92  THE   LIFE   OF   A    BOOK    AGENT. 

did  not  know  the  form  of  the  first  letter.  Judge, 
then,  of  my  dismay  when,  the  next  morning  after 
our  arrival  in  New  York,  my  husband  came  to  me 
with  pen,  ink,  and  paper,  and  said : 

"  Come,  little  wife  ;  let  me  see  what  a  sweet,  pret- 
ty letter  you  can  write  to  Captain  and  Mrs.  Lake, 
just  to  inform  them  of  our  safe  arrival  here,  and 
how  we  feel." 

"  My  dear  husband,"  said  I,  "*I  do  not  feel  able 
to  write  to-day.  I  have  a  very  severe  headache 
and  wish  you  would  write  for  me." 

Heaven  forgive  my  duplicity.  I  was  still  afraid 
to  tell  him  I  could  not  write  ;  but  my  brother,  who 
happened  to  be  in  the  room,  came  to  my  assistance. 
Said  he : 

"  Allow  me  to  speak  for  my  sister.  Eugene,  do 
you  know  anything  of  Minnie's  past  life,  or  of  our 
history  ? " 

"Nothing,  except  what  I  have  learned  from  Cap- 
tain Lake.  I  have  never  asked  Minnie,  or  any  one 
else  any  questions." 

"  Arid  what  has  Captain  Lake  told  you  ? " 

"He  has  told  me  that  he  was  your  step-father; 
that  you  have  both  lived  with  an  aged  uncle  and 
aunt  since  infancy;  and  that,  since  their  death, 
Minnie  had  been  living  in  his  family." 

"  Was  that  all  he  told  you  ? " 

"  That  was  about  all." 

"  Well,"  said  he,  rising,  and  speaking  excitedly ; 
"  he  forgot  to  tell  you  the  most  important  part.  He 
forgot  to  tell  you  that  every  dollar  he  calls  his  ; 


THE    LIFE    OF    A    BOOK    AGENT.  93 

every  dollar  he  is  worth ;  the  plantation  that  he 
lives  upon  ;  the  servants  who  till  his  lands ;  even 
the  carriage  which  bore  us  to  Atlanta  :  all  were 
our  father's.  That,  by  the  terms  of  our  father's 
will,  he  was  appointed  our  guardian  ;  that  he  mar- 
ried our  mother;  that  he  cheated  us  out  of  our 
property,  and  drove  us  from  home.  Even  the 
money  which  our  father's  will  provided  for  our  ed- 
ucation was,  by  this  man,  appropriated  to  his  own 
use,  and  we  were  left  to  grow  up  in  ignorance. 
Your  wife,  my  sister,  to-day  can  not  write  her  own. 
name  ;  but  it  is  not  her  fault  that  such  is  the  case." 

"  But  it  seems  almost  incredible  to  me.  I  have 
regarded  the  Captain  as  an  honorable  man.  Is 
this  all  true  that  you  have  been  telling  me  ?  " 

"  It  is  gospel  truth,  every  word  of  it.  For  that  I 
pledge  my  sacred  word  and  honor." 

"How  was  it  about  you  living  with  your  uncle  ?" 

"  That  is  true.  When  our  guardian,  by  his  cru- 
elty and  abuse,  drove  us  from  home,  having  no 
other  place  to  go,  we  went  to  live  with  an  aged  un- 
cle in  New  Orleans,  who  was  too  poor  to  send  us 
to  school,  and  Captain  Lake  did  nothing  for  us ; 
and  thus  we  grew  up  without  any  education." 

"Frank,"  said  my  husband,  "I  thank  you  for 
telling  me  all  this.  It  has  opened  my  eyes  to  some 
things  I  could  never  before  fully  comprehend ;  but 
now  I  see  it  all." 

Judge  of  my  feelings  while  this  conversation  was 
going  on.  I  reclined  upon  a  lounge,  my  face  cov- 
ered with  my  hands,  and  trembled  for  the  result 


94  THE   LIFE    OF    A    BOOK    AGENT. 

of  this  exposition.  I  had,  to  a  certain  extent,  de- 
ceived my  husband,  and  I  wondered  if  he  would 
love  me  less  on  account  of  that  deception.  But  I 
had  not  long  to  wait.  He  came  over  to  the  lounge 
where  I  lay,  gently  drew  my  hands  from  my  face, 
and,  stooping  down,  kissed  my  cheek — 

"  My  dear  wife,"  said  he  ;  "  how  you  have  been 
wronged.  Why  did  you  not  tell  me  before  ? " 

"  Oh  !  Genie,  I  was  afraid  to  tell  you.  I  was 
afraid  of  losing  your  love  if  you  knew  how  igno- 
rant I  was." 

*•  You  should  have  had  more  confidence  in  your 
husband.  Of  course,  I  could  not  love  you  less  for 
that  which  was  your  misfortune,  and  not  in  any 
sense  your  fault." 

"  I  should  have  told  you  some  time,  but  I  did 
not  want  you  to  know  it  now." 

"  Well,  my  Minnie,  never  mind  it  now.  I  will 
educate  you  myself,  will  teach  you  to  read,  and 
will  set  you  copies  and  teach  you  to  write  ;  and  the 
world  will  never  know  of  your  situation  at  this 
time.  And,  Frank,"  said  he,  turning  to  my  brother, 
"  if  you  will  give  up  going  to  the  gold  regions  I 
will  send  you  to  school,  and  you  shall  have  a  good 
education,  after  which  you  shall  study  a  profession. 
What  say  you  ?  " 

"  You  are  very  kind,  indeed,  but  I  do  not  feel 
willing  to  alter  my  plans.  I  have  been  all  my  life 
dependent  upon  some  one  else,  and  now  there  is  a 
chance  of  making  myself  independent,  and  I  do 
not  feel  like  neglecting  it." 


THE   LIFE    OF   A   BOOK    AGENT.  95 

"  But,  consider,  Frank,  how  much  better  it  will 
be  for  you  to  stay  at  home,  and,  after  obtaining  a 
good  education,  you  will  then  have  an  opportunity 
of  rising  to  distinction  in  some  honorable  profes- 
sion ;  while,  if  you  go  to  California,  your  education 
will  probably  never  be  any  better  than  it  now  is. 
Besides,  think  of  the  dangers  and  hardships  you 
must  encounter  in  that  wild  region — all  of  which 
will  be  avoided  by  the  plan  I  propose.  Think  well 
of  what  I  say,  before  you  decide  to  reject  my  offer." 

"I  thank  you  most  heartily  for  your  kind  offer, 
but  my  mind  is  made  up.  I  should  like  to  have  a 
good  edudation,  but  can  not  give  up  the  chance  of 
becoming  independent.  As  for  the  dangers  and 
hardships  of  which  you  speak,  they  do  not  dis- 
hearten me  in  the  least,  but  rather  confirm  me  in 
my  determination.  I  am  firmly  resolved  to  go." 

Argument  and  entreaty  were  utterly  unavailing 
to  move  him,  or  to  shake  the  resolution  he  had 
formed ;  and,  although  Eugene  used  all  the  art  he 
was  master  of  to  induce  him  to  stay,  and  although 
I  seconded  the  efforts  of  my  husband  with  ail  the 
eloquence  of  affection,  we  found  it  impossible  to 
change  hissdetermination.  Go  he  would,  and  go  he 
did. 

When  we  finally  gave  up  all  hopes  of  inducing 
him  to  forego  the  journey  he  had  planned,  we  set 
ourselves  earnestly  to  enjoying  the  few  days  we 
could  yet  spend  in  his  society.  We  visited  every 
place  of  note  in  the  city,  and  saw  and  admired  all 
the  works  of  art  which  abound  in  such  profusion 


96  THE   LIFE   OF   A    BOOK   AGENT. 

there.  But  while  we  were  thus  enjoying  ourselves, 
we  did  not  neglect  the  very  important  duty  of  fur- 
nishing brother  with  everything  which  could  con- 
duce to  his  comfort  or  safety  on  his  journey.  I 
superintended  in  person  the  preparation  of  his  out- 
fit, and,  by  the  aid  of  some  valuable  hints  received 
from  an  old  hunter  of  the  far  West,  who  was  to  be 
his  companion  on  the  perilous  trip,  my  brother  was 
at  length  provided  with  everything  which  care,  in- 
genuity and  affection  could  suggest  to  render  his 
journey  pleasant. 

From  New  York  we  went  to  Boston,  and  visited 
the  numerous  historic  sites  with  which  that  region 
abounds.  We  went  to  Lexington,  and  stood  upon 
the  green  which  was  moistened  by  the  life-blood  of 
the  first  martyrs  of  the  Revolution ;  we  visited  the 
classic  grounds  of  Bunker  Hill,  and  gazed  with  ad- 
miration upon  the  majestic  shaft  which  commem- 
orates the  sturdy  resistance  made  by  the  untrained 
militia  of  the  colonies  to  the  veterans  of  England  ; 
we  climbed  the  frowning  heights  of  Dorchester,  and 
stood  upon  the  place  occupied  by  the  artillery  of 
Washington,  and  which  finally  compelled  General 
Howe  to  evacuate  the  city ;  and  paid  our  respects 
to  every  spot  which  the  incidents  of  those  times 
have  made  dear  to  the  American  heart ;  after  which 
we  began  to  talk  about  returning  to  our  home  in 
Georgia. 

But  before  returning,  I  had  a  duty  to  perform.  My 
dear  father  was  lying  in  the  graveyard  at  Philadel- 
phia, far  removed  from  all  his  friends,  and  I  had 


THE    LIFE   OF   A    BOOK    AGENT.  97 

reason  to  suppose  his  grave  was  in  a  sadly  neglect- 
ed condition.  To  visit  that  sacred  tomb,  and  see 
that  it  was  properly  cared  for,  was  my  duty  ;  and, 
accordingly,  we  proceeded  by  steamer  from  Boston 
to  Philadelphia,  and  once  more  I  stood  beside  that 
sacred  shrine  of  a  daughter's  affections.  I  found 
my  worst  anticipations  fully  realized.  The  resting- 
place  of  my  father's  remains  was  overgrown  with 
grass  and  weeds,  and  the  slab  of  wood  which  was 
his  only  monument  was  so  defaced  by  time  that  it 
was  with  difficulty  we  could  determine  by  the  in- 
scription thereon  that  we  really  stood  beside  his 
grave.  I  was  shocked  to  find  it  in  such  a  condition, 
and  at  once  went  to  work  to  remove  these  traces  of 
neglect.  Before  we  left  the  city  the  ground  was 
cleared  of  weeds,  and  beautifully  planted  with  ev- 
ergreens and  roses,  while  a  tall  and  stately  column 
of  marble  appropriately  commemorated  the  virtues 
of  my  father  and  the  undying  affection  of  his  chil- 
dren. 

And  there  I  parted  with  my  only  brother.  The 
time  had  come  when  he  must  proceed  to  New  York 
to  join  the  party  with  which  he  was  going  to  Cali- 
fornia, while  my  destiny  lay  in  the  opposite  direc- 
tion. Beside  the  grave  of  our  departed  father  we 
held  our  parting  interview,  exchanged  our  kindly 
wishes  for  each  other's  future  welfare,  and  renewed 
our  pledge  of  never-ending  affection,  after  which  he 
wended  his  way  to  the  steamer  in  which  he  had 
taken  passage  for  New  York,  while  I  returned  to 
our  rooms  at  the  hotel.  This  parting  with  the  last 


98  THE   LIFE    OF   A    BOOK    AGENT. 

I 

member  of  my  family  was  painful  in  the  last  de- 
gree, for  I  felt  that  I  should  never  see  him  again. 
A  journey  to  California  was  then  something  more 
than  the  mere  pleasure  trip  it  has  since  become, 
and  it  seemed  to  me  that  the  parting  was  forever. 
Still,  it  was  not  like  former  times  when  I  had  parted 
with  him.  I  was  no  longer  alone  in  the  world,  but 
was  blessed  with  a  kind  and  indulgent  husband, 
who  would  spare  no  pains  to  render  my  lot  a  hap- 
py one. 

The  next  day  we  bid  adieu  to  the  city  of  Broth- 
erly Love,  and  turned  our  course  toward  the  city  of 
Atlanta,  which  was  to  be  our  future  home.  Our 
journey  thither  was  unattended  with  any  incidents 
worthy  of  note,  and  we  finally  reached  the  Lake 
mansion  on  the  fourteenth  day  of  February,  after 
an  absence  of  five  months,  which  had  been,  to  me, 
productive  of  more  real  happiness  than  had  ever 
fallen  to  my  lot  in  the  same  space  of  time.  Each 
day  of  our  absence  had  been  productive  of  some 
new  scene  of  pleasure,  while  the  kind  and  delicate 
attentions  of  my  husband  had  left  me  nothing  to 
desire.  I  really  thought  that  I,  who  had  so  long 
been  the  plaything  of  fortune,  had  at  last  reached 
the  haven  of  rest,  and  that  my  future  life  was  to  be 
as  pleasant  as  the  past  had  been  miserable.  Poor, 
blind  mortal  that  I  was.  I  could  not  discern  in  the 
horizon  the  gathering  storm  which  was  to  make 
my  future  life  a  desert  indeed,  and  by  the  side  of 
which  the  past  was  to  be  as  calm  as  a  May  morn- 
ing. But  let  us  not  anticipate. 


THE    LIFE    OF   A   BOOK    AGENT.  99 

Deception  at  the  Lake  mansion  was  more 
than  rordial — it  was  kindness  itself.  Captain 
Lake  and  his  lovely  wife  met  us  at  the  gate, 
and  greeted  us  in  the  most  affectionate  manner, 
the  children  shouted  their  welcome  at  the  tops 
of  their  little  voices,  while  the  negroes,  clad  in 
their  holiday  attire,  and  displaying  broad  rows  of 
ivory,  stood  at  a  respectful  distance  and  indulged 
in  the  heartiest  expressions  of  delight  at  the  return 
of  the  wanderers.  Aunt  Silvie,  however,  was  not 
satisfied  with  this  formal  display  of  welcome. 
Scarcely  had  Mrs.  Lake  imprinted  her  kiss  of 
welcome  on  my  lips,  when  my  old  nurse  rushed 
from  the  group  of  servants,  clasped  me  in  her 
arms,  and  covered  me  with  kisses,  calling  me  her 
child,  her  darling,  and  invoking  an  endless  torrent 
of  blessing  on  my  head.  I  was  not  a  little  moved 
at  this  evidence  of  affection  on  the  part  of  my  old 
nurse.  But  it  was  not  at  all  surprising.  My  ac- 
quaintance with  these  simple  children  of  nature 
has  taught  me  that  they  are  more  devoted  in 
their  attachments,  and  more  intense  in  their  affec- 
tions, than  the  more  refined,  but  more  cold-blooded 
white  race.  And  this  demonstration  of  aunt 
Silvie's  was  but  the  natural  outburst  of  her  affec- 
tion for  one  whom  she  had  reared  through  the 
tender  years  of  infancy  as  her  own  child. 

We  passed  a  very  pleasant  evening  in  the  society 
of  our  friends,  during  which  it  was  arranged  that 
we  should  remain  with  them  as  their  guests  for 
a  few  weeks,  until  our  house  in  the  city  could  be 


100  THE   LIFE   OF   A   BOOK   AGENT. 

prepared  for  our  reception,  when  we  would  go  to 
housekeeping  by  ourselves.  And  thus  passed  the 
evening  of  our  return  from  our  wedding  tour. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

THERE  are  times  in  all  our  lives  when  the  hours 
seem  to  pass  on  leaden  wings ;  when  our  im- 
patience to  reach  some  ardently-desired  event  so 
far  outstrips  even  the  marvelous  speed  of  Time  as 
to  cause  us  to  wonder  that  it  should  move  so 
slowly,  and  to  seek,  but  in  vain,  for  expedients 
to  hasten  its  flight.  Witness  the  lover,  as  he 
watches  the  sun  declining  in  the  heavens,  and 
giving  place  to  the  "  queenly  orb  of  night  "  which 
is  to  light  him  to  the  presence  of  his  mistress  ; 
or  that  mistress,  as  she  awaits,  in  the  accus- 
tomed trysting  place,  the  coming  of  him  who  is 
dearer  to  her  than  life  itself,  and  in  whose  absence 
the  hours  seem  heavy  indeed.  Who  has  not  ex- 
perienced this  feeling  of  impatience  at  some  time 
or  other,  and  not  once  only,  but  on  numerous 
occasions  ? 

Such  were  my  feelings  during  the  four  or  five 
weeks  which  followed  our  return  from  the  North. 
It  had  been  settled  that  we  should  remain  at  the 
Lake  mansion  while  our  house  in  the  city  was 
undergoing  some  necessary  repairs,  and  being 
refitted  and  refurnished,  when  we  were  to  go  to 
housekeeping.  My  impatience  to  become  the 
mistress  of  my  own  establishment  was  so  great 
that  it  seemed  to  me  the  necessary  preparations 

(101) 


102  THE   LIFE    OF   A    BOOK    AGENT. 

would  never  be  completed.  Almost  daily  I  was 
in  the  city,  watching  the  workmen  with  childish 
impatience,  fretting  at  what  seemed  to  me  their 
frightfully  slow  progress,  and  foolishly  but  vainly 
wishing  that  I  could  do  something  to  hasten  the 
work.  My  anxiety  was  so  intense  as  to  reach 
almost  fever  heat,  and  each  night  I  retired  to  rest 
almost  worn  out  with  impatience  and  excitement. 
I  really  believe  that  if  this  state  of  mental  emotion 
had  continued  much  longer  I  should  have  suc- 
cumbed to  it,  and  been  really  sick ;  but  all  things 
earthly  must  have  an  end,  and  so  it  was  with  the 
preparation  of  our  house.  At  length  it  was  decided 
that  everything  was  ready,  and  we  were  to  take 
possession  of  the  house  on  the  following  day  ;  and 
that  night  I  was  perfectly  wild  with  childish  ex- 
citement and  eager  anticipation,  and  the  next 
morning  I  could  scarcely  wait  for  breakfast  before 
starting  for  our  new  home. 

In  the  fitting  up  and  furnishing  of  our  house  1 
found  fresh  proofs  of  the  kindness  of  my  husband's 
disposition  and  of  the  depth  and  sincerity  of  his 
love  for  me.  He  had  superintended  everything — I 
was  so  much  of  a  child,  and  so  much  excited,  that 
I  was  incapable  of  rendering  much  assistance — 
and  everything  was  arranged  in  the  most  con- 
venient, comfortable,  and  even  luxurious  manner. 
Besides  the  magnificent  and  luxurious  style  in 
which  the  house  was  finished,  Eugene  had  pur- 
chased from  Captain  Lake,  my  old  servants — Tom, 
Silvie,  and  Caroline — solely  because  he  knew  that 


THE   LIFE   OF   A   BOOK   AGENT. N  103 

it  would  afford  me  satisfaction  to  have  them  around 
me.  Could  any  one  have  done  more  to  gratify  my 
every  wish  than  he  had  done  ? 

I  shall  never  forget  the  first  meal  I  got  in  our 
own  house.  The  Empress  of  the  Russias  could 
not  be  prouder  than  I  was  as  I  sat  at  the  head  of 
the  table,  opposite  my  husband,  poured  his  tea 
for  him,  and  duly  assumed  the  throne  as  mistress 
of  my  own  household.  I  strongly  suspect  that  my 
houskeeping,  at  that  time,  was  not  of  the  very  first 
order — it  would  be  strange  if  it  were,  considering 
the  circumstances  of  my  past  history ;  but,  never- 
theless, I  was  the  mistress  of  our  own  elegant 
mansion ;  and,  as  busy  memory  compared  and 
contrasted  the  present  with  the  past,  my  heart 
filled  with  gratitude  toward  him  who  called  me  by 
the  name  of  wife,  and  who  had  wrought  so  great  a 
change  in  my  apparent  destiny.  Need  it  be 
added  that  my  love  for  him  was,  if  possible,  in- 
tensified by  these  reflections,  and  that  I  felt  as 
though  the  devotion  of  an  entire  life  would  be  but 
a  small  return  for  his  kindness  ? 

Our  children,  too  (for  I  now  called  them  ours), 
were  a  constant  source  of  delight  to  me.  Willie 
was  now  five  years  old ;  Frankie  was  past  three, 
and  Eddie  was  about  fourteen  months  ;  and  I  do 
not  think  I  ever  saw  more  quiet  or  better  dispo- 
sitioned  children  than  they  were.  But  my  especial 
pet  and  favorite  was  Eddie.  He  was  then  just  in, 
what  is  to  me,  the  most  interesting  period  of  child- 
hood— was  just  beginning  to  lisp  "papa"  and 


104  THE   LIFE   OF    A   BOOK   AGENT. 

"  mamma,"  and  learning  to  walk.  Many  an  hour 
did  I  spend  in  training  and  guiding  his  timid, 
halting,  staggering  footsteps,  and  the  exercise 
endeared  him  to  me  almost  beyond  description. 
He  was  a  most  lovely  child;  he  had  large,  blue 
eyes,  light  curly  hair,  and  as  fair  arid  clear  a  com- 
plexion as  I  ever  saw.  In  training  and  developing 
his  infantile  mind  and  person,  I  found  ample  em- 
ployment of  the  most  pleasing  and  interesting 
character.  Ah !  how  happy  I  was  during  these 
days. 

One  year  and  four  months  passed  away  after 
our  marriage,  and  I  had  another  object  to  which 
my  affection  was  directed.  On  the  first  day  of 
January,  I  presented  my  husband  with  a  most 
precious  New  Year's  gift;  a  fine,  lovely,  healthy 
daughter.  She  was  the  very  image  of  her  father, 
and,  it  seemed  to  me,  was  the  handsomest  child  I 
ever  beheld.  Doubtless  all  young  mothers  think 
the  same  of  their  first-born,  but  be  that  as  it  may, 
my  cup  of  happiness  was  now  full,  and  I  could 
think  of  nothing  more  to  desire  or  wish  for  in  this 
world.  My  husband  was  all  kindness,  and  was, 
in  my  eyes,  perfection  itself.  My  home  was  one  of 
the  most  comfortable  and  luxurious  that  the 
imagination  could  conceive,  and  I  was  the  proud 
mother  of  the  loveliest  child  upon  which  the  sun 
ever  shone.  Was  not  my  lot  a  happy  one  ? 

But,  alas !  how  true  it  is  that  earth's  highest 
pleasures  are  but  ephemeral  in  their  existence,  and 
that  the  sweetest  joys  are  shortest  in  their  stay. 


THE   LIFE    OF    A    BOOK    AGENT.  105 

It  is  the  common  lot  of  mankind  that  at  the 
moment  when  we  are  elevated  to  the  highest  pin- 
nacle of  happiness,  we  are  nearest  the  brink  of  the 
awful  abyss  of  misery  and  black  despair ;  and  my 
experience  has  been  no  exception  to  this  general 
rule  of  our  fallen  humanity.  In  a  few  short 
months  I  was  to  be  prostrated  from  my  throne  of 
happiness  into  a  gulf  of  misery  more  terrible  than 
any  that  in  my  checkered  life  I  had  been  called  to 
endure. 

The  first  terrible  blow  was  the  loss  of  my 
precious  little  wild  flower.  The  angel,  whose 
company  I  had  fondly  hoped  to  keep  during  the 
residue  of  my  pilgrimage  below,  was  too  bright  for 
earth,  and  was  summoned  by  the  Father  to  her 
home  in  the  skies,' leaving  my  heart  desolate. 
Upon  the  breezes  of  April  the  angel  of  Death 
spread  his  wing,  and  summoned  my  cherub  to. 
join  the  bright  throng  above,  and  the  showers  of 
May  brought  their  wealth  of  flowers  and  strewed 
them  upon  the  grave  of  our  darling.  Her  life  was 
brief,  but  it  was  not  bitter;  she  was  spared  the 
sufferings  and  trials  which  must  inevitably  have 
attended  her  more  mature  years  ;  and  though  my 
heart  was  wrung  with  anguish  as  I  listened  to  the 
dull  sound  of  the  clods  falling  upon  her  little 
coffin,  I  can  now  look  up  to  heaven  and  say,  "  Thy 
will  be  done."  My  subsequent  misfortunes  and 
sorrows  have  taught  my  heart  a  lesson  of  resigna- 
tion which  I  did  not  then  feel. 

Upon  my  husband  the  loss  of  our  child  seemed 


106  THE   LIFE   OF   A   BOOK   AGENT. 

to  fall,  if  possible,  with  more  crushing  weight  than 
it  did  upon  myself.  It  is  not  usual  for  the  father 
to  experience  the  same  degree  of  love  and  affection 
for  the  offspring  as  the  mother — it  does  not  seem 
so  much  a  part  of  him  as  of  the  mother,  who  has 
given  a  portion  of  her  very  life  to  bring  it  into 
existence,  and  his  heart  does  not,  therefore,  go  out 
toward  the  child  with  -the  same  intense  yearning 
as  that  of  the  mother.  A  father  may  give  to  his 
children  all  the  love  of  which  he  is  capable,  but 
as  compared  with  the  intense,  selfish  devotion  of  a 
mother  toward  her  young,  it  is,  in  general,  but 
feeble.  But  in  the  case  of  our  Mary,  who  was  so 
early  taken  away  from  us,  I  was  surprised  to  find 
that  my  husband  felt  her  loss  even  more  keenly 
than  I  did.  It  hardly  seemed  possible  that  my 
grief  could  have  been  excelled ;  but  while  my 
sorrow  was  as  a  tempest  to  my  soul,  his  was  a 
perfect  tornado ;  and  I  think  it  was  partially 
owing  to  the  intensity  of  his  grief  that  my  husband 
was  led  into  the  commission  of  acts,  soon  to  be  re- 
corded, which  gave  fresh  poignancy  to  the  anguish 
we  already  endured. 

What  a  grievous  mistake  it  is — what  a  sin 
against  God  and  humanity — what  worse  than 
folly,  when  he  whose  soul  is  borne  down  by  the 
weight  of  sorrow  turns  for  consolation  to  the 
ephemeral  and  blighting  excitement  of  dissipation ; 
to  the  forgetfulness  of  intoxication,  the  enchant- 
ment of  the  gaming  table,  and  the  forced  and 
senseless  mirth  of  bacchanalian  revelries.  No  man 


THE   LIFE   OF    A    BOOK    AGENT.  107 

ever  did,  or  ever  will,  secure  immunity  from  sorrow 
by  resorting  to  such  agencies  as  these.  The  poor 
wretch  who  resorts  to  these  means  to  get  rid  of 
his  burden  of  sorrow,  may  succeed  for  the  moment 
in  diverting  his  mind  from  its  contemplation,  but 
the  relief  is  only  temporary,  and  when  reason  is 
restored,  and  the  mind  returns  to  the  contempla- 
tion of  its  grief,  its  pangs  are  but  intensified  by 
the  very  means  used  to  arrest  them  ;  for  to  the 
former  sorrow  is  superadded  the  recollection  of 
grievous  wrong  committed  to  get  rid  of  it.  Nor  is 
the  effort  to  obtain  even  temporary  relief  at  all 
times  successful.  Numerous  instances  are  re- 
corded of  parties  who  have  resorted  to  dissipation 
to  drown  sorrow,  and  who,  in  the  height  of  a 
debauch — perhaps  in  the  midst  of  some  bacchana- 
lian song  or  obscene  jest — have  suddenly  been 
arrrested,  and  the  words  frozen  upon  their  lips  by 
the  vivid  recollection  of  their  great  sorrow.  Better, 
a  thousand  times  better,  endure  with  submissive 
meekness  the  most  painfully  afflictive  dispensa- 
tions of  our  Father's  providence,  and  thus  rob 
them,  in  great  part,  of  their  sting,  than  to  endeav- 
or to  drive  away  their  memory  by  means  which, 
in  the  end  will  only  increase  their  power  in  a  ten- 
fold degree.  But  to  this  philosophy  and  this 
reasoning  my  husband,  like  thousands  of  others, 
was  a  stranger,  and  he  fell  into  the,  alas!  too 
frequent,  but  ever  delusive  arid  unsuccessful  at- 
tempt, to  drive  away  his  sorrow  by  dissipation. 
It  was  but  a  short  time  after  the  funeral  of  our 


108  THE   LIFE   OF   A    BOOK    AGENT. 

little  girl  until  I  began  to  perceive  he  was  becom- 
ing irregular  in  his  habits.  Before  that  sad  event 
he  never  staid  from  home  later  than  until  about 
ten  o'clock  at  night;  now  I  often  sat  and  watched 
and  waited  for  him  until  midnight,  one  o'clock, 
two,  and  even  as  late  as  three  o'clock.  Many  and 
many  a  time  have  I  thus  watched  for  him  for  long 
hours  after  the  children  were  asleep,  almost  vainly 
striving  to  crush  back  the  tears  which  would  well 
up  from  my  burdened  heart  to  my  eyes,  but  which  I 
sternly  repressed  in  order  to  prevent  him,  when  he 
should  come,  from  knowing  how  I  had  been  weeping. 
Vain  were  all  my  efforts  to  divine,  satisfactorily 
to  my  own  mind,  the  reason  for  this  change  in  him  ; 
but  still  I  forebore  to  complain,  and  always  greeted 
him  with  a  smile,  a  kiss,  and  all  the  demonstra- 
tions of  affection  which  had  marked  our  happiest 
days.  And  still  matters  went  on  from  bad  to 
worse  ;  he  still  became  more  and  more  irregular  in 
his  hours,  and  I  began  to  detect,  in  his  breath,  the 
scent  of  the  noxious  fumes  of  alcoholic  drinks. 

Oh  !  the  misery  of  those  nights  of  watching  no 
human  tongue  can  tell.  Night  after  night,  when 
the  children  were  in  bed  and  fast  asleep,  and  the 
servants  had  all  retired  to  rest,  have  I,  the  only 
waking  being  about  the  house,  sat,  and  alone 
watched  for  my  wayward  husband,  frequently  pro- 
longing my  vigils  until  the  coming  day  would  gild 
the  eastern  skies,  and  still  no  Eugene  would  come. 
Often,  after  passing  the  entire  night  in  watching, 
have  I  gone  down  alone  to  my  cheerless  breakfast. 


THE    LIFE    OF    A    BOOK    AGENT.  109 

my  eyes  red  and  swollen  with  weeping  and  wake- 
fulness,  while  my  heart  throbbed  with  an  anguish 
which  none  can  know,  save  those  who  have  endured 
the  same  fearful  trials.  Have  you,  my  lady  reader, 
ever  endured  such  trials  as  these  ?  If  not,  may 
God  in  his  mercy  spare  you  this  great  agony. 

Never  shall  I  forget  the  first  time  he  came  home 
in  a  state  of  intoxication.  It  was  long  past  the 
midnight ;  the  moon,  which  was  at  its  full,  was 
shining  brightly,  and  made  it  almost  as  light  as 
day,  and  the  stillness  and  serenity  of  the  air  seem- 
ed enough  to  hush  every  display  of  human  passion. 
I  was  sitting  by  the  window,  gazing  out  upon  the 
brilliancy  of  the  landscape,  which  shone  like  silver 
in  the  radiant  light  of  the  moon,  when  suddenly, 
borne  to  my  ears  upon  the  breeze  of  the  night,  came 
a  succession  of  sounds  which  almost  caused  my 
blood  to  curclle,  and  my  hair  to  stand  erect  with 
horror.  I  do  not  think  that  ever  in  my  life  have  I 
heard  such  frightful  oaths  and  such  shocking,  blas- 
phemous obscenity  as  disturbed  the  quiet  of  that 
lovely  night.  As  soon  as  I  recovered  a  little  from 
the  first  shock  of  horror,  I  opened  the  window,  and, 
bending  eagerly  out,  endeavored  to  ascertain  the 
source  from  whence  proceeded  the  frightful  sounds. 

A  gang  of  half  a  dozen  drunken  men  were  ap- 
proaching the  house,  and  in  their  midst,  almost 
utterly  helpless  from  the  extent  of  his  intoxication, 
and  supported  by  two  of  his  companions,  who  were 
not  quite  so  far  gone  as  himself,  was  the  well- 
known  form  of  my  husband.  From  him  and  his 


110  THE   LIFE   OF    A    BOOK    AGENT. 

boon  companions  had  proceeded  the  sounds  which 
had  so  thrilled  my  soul  with  terror.  As  I  took  in, 
at  a  glance,  the  situation,  and  the  fell  import  of 
the  scene  before  me  forced  itself  upon  my  compre- 
hension, I  uttered  a  cry  as  though  a  dagger  had 
pierced  my  heart,  and  rushing  to  the  door,  opened 
it  just  in  time  to  receive  the  helpless  form  of  my 
husband  from  his  supporters.  Once  inside  the 
door,  and  missing  their  support,  he  fell  at  full 
length  upon  the  hall  floor,  where  he  lay,  utterly 
helpless  and  unable  to  rise.  It  was  a  task  requir- 
ing all  my  strength  to  get  him  into  the  room,  un- 
dress him  and  put  him  to  bed,  but  it  was  at  length 
accomplished,  and  I  seated  myself  at  the  window 
to  pass  the  remainder  of  the  night,  for  sleep  I  could 
not.  My  heart  was  too  full  of  sadness  and  sorrow 
to  take  any  rest.  Had  any  one  told  me,  a  short 
year  before,  that  my  husband  would  become  a 
common  drunkard,  I  should  have  scouted  the  idea 
as  an  absurdity,  but  now  there  was  no  avoiding  it. 
The  proof  was  there  before  me,  and  how  I  shuddered 
as  I  contemplated  what  the  future  might  have  in 
store  for  me.  Already,  in  fancy,  I  saw  myself 
pointed  and  sneered  at  as  the  wife  of  a  drunkard, 
while  the  children,  who  were  as  dear  to  me  as 
though  they  had  been  my  own,  were  devoted  to  a 
life  of  wretchedness  and  shame.  The  agony  that  I 
endured,  as  these  thoughts  passed  through  my 
mind,  during  the  remaining  hours  of  that  night, 
can  never  be  told. 

Similar  scenes  to  these  were  of  frequent  occur- 


THE    LIFE    OF   A    BOOK    AGENT.  Ill 

rence  from  this  time  forward,  until  at  last  they  be- 
came so  common  as  to  be  rather  the  rule  than  the 
exception.  A  majority  of  the  nigh rs  my  husband 
came  home  more  or  less  intoxicated,  while  not  un- 
frequently  he  was  so  far  gone  as  to  require  assist- 
ance in  getting  home.  During  all  this  time  he  was 
not  unkind  or  abusive  to  me — never  spoke  angrily 
or  harshly  to  me,  but  was  practising  upon  me  a 
species  of  cruelty  far  more  dreadful  than  any  per- 
sonal violence  could  be. 

I  soon  discovered  that  he  was  burdened  with 
some  terrible  secret  which  constantly  weighed  down 
his  spirits,  but  which  he  refused  to  share  with  me. 
When  sober,  there  was  an  air  of  sadness  about 
him  which  I  at  first  attributed  to  remorse  for  the 
debaucheries  in  which  he  was  constantly  partici- 
pating ;  but  though  that  doubtless  contributed 
somewhat  to  his  moroseness,  it  was  not  long  till  I 
made  up  my  mind,  from  some  words  which  he 
carelessly  let  fall,  that  there  was  even  something 
more  than  this  pressing  upon  his  spirits.  No 
sooner  did  I  arrive  at  this  conclusion  than,  with 
fear  and  trembling,  I  set  to  work  to  find  out  what 
it  was.  True,  I  dreaded  the  discovery,  but  still 
I  felt  that  it  was  necessary  to  know  the  worst, 
and  anything  was  better  than  the  suspense  I  was 
enduring.  Accordingly,  one  evening  when,  at  my 
earnest  solicitation,  he  consented  to  stay  at  home 
with  me,  I  broached  the  subject. 

"My  dear  husband,"  said  I,  "I  am  certain  you 
have  some  great  trouble  on  your  mind,  and  that 


112        .  THE   LIFE   OF   A    BOOK   AGENT. 

it  [is  that  which  leads  to  all  our  recent  sorrows. 
Is  it  not  so?" 

"  Why,  Minnie,  why  do  you  ask  such  questions  ? 
What  if  my  business  does  vex  and  annoy  me  a 
little,  is  that  any  reason  why  you  should  borrow 
any  trouble  about  it?" 

"But  I  am  certain  it  is  not  your  business. 
There  is  something  besides  business  weighing 
upon  your  mind.  I  have  seen  it  in  your  eye, 
averted  whenever  I  tried  to  look  you  in  the  face  ; 
in  your  moody,  restless  air;  in  your  half-sup- 
pressed sighs,  and  in  a  thousand  other  little  cir- 
cumstances which  none  but  a  wife  would  observe. 
Eugene,  I  am  your  wife,  and  have  sworn  to  love 
and  honor  you,  to  share  your  joys  and  sorrows — 
why  should  you  conceal  anything  from  me  ?  If 
your  are  in  trouble,  tell  me,  and  let  me  share  it 
with  you.  Will  you  not,  dear  Genie  ?  " 

"  Oh !  Minnie,  do  not  urge  me.  If  I  have  troubles 
I  must  bear  them  alone.  They  are  not  for  you  to 
share." 

"Not  for  me  to  share !  Who  should  share  your 
troubles  if  not  your  own  true  and  loving  wife? 
Tell  me,  my  husband,  what  is  it  that  so  oppreses 
you,  and  my  woman's  wit  shall  find  some  way 
to  relieve  you  of  your  distress." 

"  Minnie,  it  would  kill  you  to  know  it,  and  beside 
it  is  entirely  beyond  your  power  to  afford  any 
relief.  Why  then  should  I  trouble  you  with  it? 
'No,  the  troubles  which  oppress  me  I  have  brought 
upon  myself,  and  I  will  bear  them  alone.  No  one, 


THE   LIFE    OF    A    BOOK    AGENT.  113 

much  less  you,  my  precious  wife,  must  suffer  for 
my  own  faults." 

"But  this  suspense  is  worse,  and  far  more  pain- 
ful to  me,  than  any  knowledge  could  be.  If  you 
have  erred,  tell  me  all  about  it — be  assured  of  my 
forgiveness  beforehand,  but  do  not  conceal  any- 
thing from  me.  Come,  my  husband,  tell  me  all, 
and  not  only  relieve  my  suspense,  but  let  us  devise 
means  to  get  rid  of  the  trouble  which  has  destroyed 
and  is  destroying  all  our  happiness.  Tell  me,  my 
husband,  tell  me  all." 

But  all  my  efforts  and  entreaties  were  vain.  To 
all  I  could  say  he  would  only  answer  that  it 
would  kill  me,  and  that  he  must  suffer  alone,  and 
I  retired  to  rest  that  night  with  a  heavier  heart 
than  I  had  known  for  a  long  time.  It  was  impos- 
sible for  me  to  divest  myself  of  the  impression  that 
some  terrible  calamity  was  impending  over  us, 
and  what  it  was  I  could  not  divine.  I  mused  over 
it  for  a  long  time  after  my  husband  was  asleep, 
but  could  arrive  at  no  conclusion  satisfactory 
to  myself,  and  was  finally  forced  to  give  it  up  en- 
tirely. How  much  better  it  would  have  been  for 
all  parties,  had  my  husband  then  yielded  to  my 
entreaties,  and  imparted  his  trouble  to  me,  let  the 
sequel  show.  Oh !  husbands,  think  not  to  save 
your  wives  from  sorrow  by  endeavoring  to  conceal 
from  them  the  troubles  which  oppress  you.  In 
many  instances  their  quick  wit,  sharpened  by 
affection,  will  devise  means  of  avoiding  the  evil 
where  to  you  there  seems  no  chance  of  escape, 

8 


114  THE   LIFE    OF    A    BOOK    AGENT. 

while  concealment  only  leads  them  to  imagine  the 
worst,  and  thus  produces  far  more  pain  to  them 
than  knowledge  of  all  the  facts  would.  Beside, 
it  is  their  duty  and  their  right  to  know  and  share 
all  your  sorrows  and  all  your  troubles ;  and,  my 
word  for  it,  to  the  true  wife  the  path  of  duty  is 
always  the  path  of  pleasure.  What  though  that 
path  be  rough  and  thorny,  still  she  treads  it 
not  only  with  satisfaction,  but  with  joy,  and  finds 
her  reward  in  promoting  the  happiness  of  him  to 
whom  she  has  given  her  purest  love.  As  you 
value  that  love,  pain  not  her  gentle  spirit  by  striv- 
ing to  conceal  from  her  that  which  it  is  her  right 
and  her  duty,  as  well  as  desire,  to  know. 

Some  weeks  passed  away  after  this  conversation, 
and  my  husband  grew  no  better.  His  evenings 
were  nearly  all  spent  away  from  home,  and  not 
unfrequently  he  would  be  gone  the  entire  night, 
and  when  he  came  home,  instead  of  being  the 
strong  man  of  vigorous  intellect  that  he  was  when  I 
first  knew  him,  he  would  be  a  mere  .infant  in 
strength,  and  but  little  more  than  a  driveling  idiot. 
Such  are  the  eifects  of  alcoholic  drinks,  and  such 
they  are  known  to  be  by  every  one.  Why  is  it 
that  men,  made  in  the  image  and  likeness  of  their 
Creator,  will  persist  in  the  use  of  that  terrible 
poison,  which  reduces  them  below  the  level  of  the 
brute,  and  only  fits  them  for  the  companionship  of 
the  lost  spirits  of  the  bottomless  pit,  and  qualifies 
them  for  the  commission  of  any  crime  ? 

One  night  my  husband  was,  as  usual,  away  from 


THE   LIFE   OF   A   BOOK    AGENT.  115 

home,  and  I  was  sitting  alone  in  my  room,  waiting 
and  watching  for  his  coming ;  for,  during  all  this 
time,  I  never  once  failed  to  sit  up  and  wait 
for  him  to  come.  I  felt  it  my  duty  to  do  so  ;  and, 
beside,  I  thought  if  there  was  any  hope  of  reclaim- 
ing him,  it  would  be  accomplished  in  that  way 
and  no  other.  As  I  sat  there,  worn  and  weary 
with  my  constant  vigils,  suddenly  the  door-bell 
was  rung  with  a  violence  which  caused  me  to 
start  from  my  chair,  with  the  impression  that 
something  terrible  had  happened.  I  was  sure  it 
was  not  my  husband,  for  he  had  a  latch-key,  and 
could  come  in  at  his  pleasure,  and  my  first  thought 
was  that  he  was  dead,  or  had  met  with  some  terri- 
ble accident ;  and  while  I  stood  trembling  with 
alarm  and  undecided  what  to  do,  again  the  terrible 
summons  pealed  through  the  house,  if  possible 
with  more  violence  than  before.  I  did  not  dare  to 
go  to  the  door,  but  called  Tom  and  Silvie  and 
directed  them  to  see  who  was  there,  and  what  they 
wanted  at  this  time  of  the  night.  Aunt  Silvie  got 
up  and  opened  the  door  and  found  a  basket  sitting 
on  the  step,  but  no  person  was  to  be  seen,  nor  was 
there  any  clue  as  to  how  it  came  there.  Tom 
went  out  into  the  grounds  and  made  the  most 
diligent  search  about  the  yard  and  buildings,  but 
could  find  no  traces  of  any  one. 

The  basket  was  brought  into  the  house,  and 
when  opened  we  found  it  to  contain  a  little  girl, 
apparently  aged  three  or  four  weeks.  The  child 
was  well  dressed,  and,  at  the  bottom  of  the  basket 


116  THE   LIFE    OF   A    BOOK    AGENT. 

was  a  note  well  written,  but  in  a  hand  entirely  un- 
known to  me.     It  ran  thus  : 

MKS.  GILES — Take  this  little  one  and  take  care 
of  her.  Whatever  of  wrong  her  mother  may 
have,  committed,  she  at  least  is  innocent,  and 
should  not  suffer  for  the  wrong  of  others.  Some 
day  you  will  know  all  about  her  parentage,  but 
not  now.  Her  name  is  Carrie,  and  she  will  take 
the  place  of  the  little  one  you  have  lost.  As 
you  value  your  happiness  and  peace  of  mind,  take 
good  care  of  her. 

It  was  without  signature,  and  I  could  not  imagine 
who  was  its  author,  or  why  it  should  have  been 
sent  to  me.  I  knew  not  what  to  think  or  what  to 
do.  How  I  wished  for  the  presence  of  my  husband 
that  he  might  advise  me  in  this  emergency.  How 
could  I  take  care  for  it?  I  already  had  three 
children ;  my  health  was  becoming  delicate  on 
account  of  the  conduct  of  my  husband ;  and  it 
seemed  impossible  for  me  to  add  this  foundling 
and  its  care  to  my  already  heavy  burdens.  And 
yet,  the  thought  of  sending  it  away  was  in  the 
last  degree  abhorrent  to  me.  What  should  be 
done? 

I  was  recalled  from  these  musings  by  the  child 
beginning  to  cry.  It  was  evidently  hungry,  and 
I  told  aunt  Silvie,  who  had  been  standing  silently 
by  all  this  time,  to  get  some  milk  and  feed  it. 
She  started  as  if  from  a  trance,  and  turned  to  obey 
me,  muttering  as  she  went  something,  of  which 
I  only  heard,  "  a  pretty  kittle  of  fish,"  "bet  it's 
massa's  young  'un,"  and  something  else  which  I 


THE   LIFE   OF    A    BOOK    AGENT.  117 

could  not  catch.  This  gave  a  new  direction  to 
my  thoughts,  by  disclosing  to  me  the  suspicions 
which  were  floating  through  her  mind.  Could  it 
be  that  my  husband  was  false  to  me,  and  that 
this  child  was  the  fruit  of  his  guilty  intrigues  ? 
Oh !  no ;  it  could  not  be.  He  had  always  been 
so  kind  and  affectionate  to  me  that  it  was  not 
possible  he  was  deceiving  me  in  this  manner. 
With  these  reflections  I  tried  to  dismiss  the 
subject  from  my  thoughts  ;  but  still  my  suspicions 
had  been  aroused,  and  I  could  not  cease  to  think 
of  old  Silvie's  muttered  words.  After  the  child's 
hunger  had  been  appeased,  I  took  it  in  my  arms, 
and,  for  the  first  time,  went  to  bed  without  my 
husband  ;  but  though  the  infant  sunk  into  a  sound 
slumber,  and  did  not  wake  during  the  entire  night, 
my  thoughts,  fears  and  suspicions  would  not  allow 
me  to  sleep.  With  the  first  faint  streak  of  dawn  I 
arose  and  assumed  my  watching. 

About  six  o'clock  Eugene  came  home,  and,  to 
my  surprise,  he  was  entirely  sober.  I  at  once 
showed  him  the  little  foundling,  handed  him  the 
note,  and  stood  by  to  watch  him  while  he  read  it. 
I  thought  if  he  was  guilty,  as  aunt  Silvie  thought, 
it  would  be  impossible  for  him  to  conceal  it ;  but 
the  closest  scrutiny  of  his  features  failed  to  reveal 
anything  to  confirm  those  suspicions.  He  was 
evidently  as  much  surprised  at  the  circumstance  as 
I  had  been,  and,  in  my  own  mind,  I  was  convinced 
he  knew  nothing  of  the  paternity  of  the  child,  and 


118  THE   LIFE   OF   A    BOOK   AGENT. 

at  once  acquitted  him  of  the  wrong  of  which  he 
had  been  suspected. 

We  then  discussed  the  disposition  to  be  made  of 
the  child.  He  proposed  sending  it  away  some 
where ;  but  now  that  I  was  convinced  of  his  inno- 
cence I  would  not  consent  to  this,  and  insisted 
upon  adopting  her  as  our  own.  To  this  he  finally 
consented,  and  it  was  so  decided — he  saying,  that 
since  we  had  concluded  to  keep  it,  he  was  glad  it 
was  a  girl,  as  we  already  had  three  boys,  and 
none  of  the  other  sex.  We  therefore  bestowed 
upon  her  the  same  care  and  attention  which  we 
gave  our  own,  and  in  time  she  grew  to  be  sufficient- 
ly sweet  and  interesting  to  more  than  repay  us 
for  all  our  trouble.  But  still  the  secret  of  her 
birth  was  wrapped  in  profound  mystery,  and 
caused  me  many  an  hour  of  anxious  thought. 
It  is  true  my  husband  was  no  longer  suspected 
of  any  wrong  in  connection  with  it ;  but  my 
inability  to  fathom  the  mystery  was  a  source  of 
constant  uneasiness  to  me.  It  did  not  then  occur 
to  me  that  he  might  be  guilty  after  all,  and  that 
his  surprise  was  but  simulated  to  convince  me  of 
his  innocence.  I  did  not  then  know  him  as  well  as 
I  have  since  learned  to  do. 

I  tried  by  all  means  in  my  power  to  stimulate  the 
interest  of  my  husband  in  the  new  accession  to  our 
household,  hoping  that  it  would  have  some  influ- 
ence to  wean  him  from  the  evil  ways  into  which 
he  had  fallen,  and,  for  a  few  days,  flattered  myself 
with  the  hope  that  my  efforts  were  going  to  prove 


THE   LIFE    OF    A    BOOK    AGENT.  119 

successful.  For  some  days  after  the  advent  of  the 
little  foundling,  he  spent  his  evenings  at  home ; 
but  just  as  I  began  to  flatter  myself  that  he  was 
reclaimed,  he  suddenly  relapsed,  and  was,  in  a 
very  short  time,  just  as  bad  as  ever.  Again  were 
repeated  the  scenes  of  lonely  nights,  of  weary 
watching,  of  helpless  intoxication,  and  beastly  de- 
bauchery, amid  which  my  time  had  been  passed 
almost  constantly  since  the  death  of  our  little  girl; 
and  again  I  drank  to  its  dregs  the  cup  of  bitterness 
ever  presented  to  the  lips  of  a  neglected  wife.  But 
this  could  not  last  always,  and  finally  the  end 
came. 

One  evening,  a  few  weeks  after  the  events  I  have 
just  related,  my  husband  came  home  very  early — 
about  seven  o'clock,  I  think  it  was — and  was  evi- 
dently very  much  depressed  in  epirit.  He  came  in 
without  a  word,  and,  taking  his  seat,  sat  for  some 
time  without  speaking.  At  length  the  silence 
grew  irksome  to  me,  and  I  went  up  to  him,  and, 
putting  my  arm  around  his  neck,  said : 

"  Eugene,  you  must  tell  me  what  is  the  matter 
with  you.  For  a  long  time  you  have  not  been 
yourself,  nor  have  you  confided  to  me  any  part  of 
your  troubles.  I  have  borne  it  until  my  heart  is 
well  nigh  breaking,  and  now  I  feel  that  I  can  not 
*lstand  it  any  longer.  Do  tell  me,  I  implore  you, 
what  it  is  that  troubles  you/' 

He  made  no  reply,  but  laid  his  head  upon  my 
breast  and  wept  like  a  child.  I  said  nothing,  but 
let  his  head  rest  upon  my  bosom  until  his  grief  had 


120  THE   LIFE    OF    A    BOOK    AGENT. 

somewhat  subsided.  Indeed,  I  was  too  much  alarm- 
ed and  astounded  to  say  anything.  I  had  never 
seen  any  man,  and  much  less  him,  moved  as  he 
was  by  my  simple  question,  and  knew  not  what  to 
say  or  do.  When  his  sobs  had  somewhat  subsided, 
I  kissed  his  brow,  and  again  urged  him,  by  all  the 
endearing  words  at  my  command,  to  impart  his 
grief  to  me.  Without  looking  up,  he  said  : 

"  Minnie,  I  can  not  tell  you  all.  I  am  ashamed 
to  confess  it  all  to  myself,  much  less  to  you.  Oh  ! 
if  you  knew  all  that  I  have  done,  the  depths  to 
which  I  have  descended,  you  would  fly  from  me 
and  never  see  me  again." 

"  Eugene,  you  wrong  me.  I  can  forgive  anything 
for  your  sake — can  endure  anything  except  this 
concealment ;  so  tell  me  the  worst,  and  see  how 
bravely  I  can  bear  it." 

"  Oh !  Minnie,  you  are  so  kind,  so  affectionate, 
and  so  dear  to  me,  that  I  would  gladly  spare  you 
this  trial  if  I  could.  But  I  can  not  conceal  it  any 
longer.  Minnie,  I  have  been  gambling  for  a  long 
time,  and  am  a  ruined  man.  At  first  I  was  suc- 
cessful, and  became  infatuated  with  the  love  of 
play,  and,  when  fortune  turned  against  me,  I  kept 
on  in  the  hope  of  retrieving  my  position  ;  and  so  it 
has  gone  on,  until  I  have  lost  all,  and  my  wife  and 
children  will  soon  be  homeless.  This  house,  furni- 
ture, servants,  my  livery-stable  and  all,  will  not 
pay  my  debts,  and  I  may  even  have  to  go  to  jail. 
What  will  become  of  you  and  the  babies  ?  " 

I  was  struck  speechless  by  this  revelation,     iu 


THE    LIFE    OF    A    BOOK    AGENT.  121 

all  my  imaginings  as  to  the  cause  of  Ms  irregular- 
ities, it  had  never  occurred  to  me  that  this  might 
be  the  case.  The  worst  that  had  suggested  itself 
to  my  mind  was,  that  he  had  been  unfortunate  in 
business,  and  was  compelled  to  sacrifice  his  prop- 
erty ;  and  had  this  been  so,  had  he  lost  every  dol- 
lar he  was  worth,  but  lost  it  honorably,  I  could 
have  borne  it  all  without  a  murmur.  Oh !  yes,  I 
could  have  endured  the  very  lowest  depths  of  pov- 
erty with  him,  without  complaint,  had  he  been  re- 
duced to  those  depths  without  dishonor  on  his  part, 
and  simply  by  the  frowns  of  fortune  ;  but  to  know 
that  he  had  brought  it  all  upon  himself  and  us  by 
the  contemptible,  soul-blighting;  and  God-dishon- 
oring vice  of  gambling  so  completely  overwhelmed 
me  with  astonishment  and  horror  that,  for  a  time,. 
I  was  incapable  of  uttering  a  single  word,  or,  in- 
deed, scarcely  comprehending  it. 

How  any  man  gifted  with  sense  and  reason  can 
so  far  debase  himself  as  to  engage  in  the  pernicious 
vice  of  gambling — that  pursuit'  in  which  all  the 
better  and  finer  feelings  of  human  nature  are  swal- 
lowed up  in  the  fierce  and  unholy  excitement  of  the 
gaming-table,  and  in  which  the  demon  Avarice 
takes  entire  possession  of  a  man,  to  the  exclusion 
of  everything  noble  and  praiseworthy ;  that  pursuit 
which  is  the  fruitful  parent  of  intemperance-,  licen- 
tiousness, and  every  other  vice  to  which  frail  hu- 
manity is  subject;  that  pursuit  which  almost 
inevitably  accompanies  and  leads  to  theft,  highway 
robbery,  and  even  murder ;  which,  in  short,  trans- 


122  THE   LIFE   OF   A   BOOK    AGENT. 

forms  men  into  demons — is  beyond  my  power  to 
comprehend.  Had  I  a  son,  I  would  a  thousand 
times  rather  see  him  inclosed  in  his  coffin  than  to 
see  him  seated  at  the  gaming-table  :  the  first  would 
only  be  the  death  of  the  mortal  body,  while  the 
last  would  be  neither  more  nor  less  than  the  eter- 
nal death  of  an  immortal  soul.  Oh  !  young  man, 
just  starting  upon  the  troublous  voyage  of  life, 
shun  the  soul-killing  excitement  of  the  gaming- 
table as  you  would  the  bite  of  an  adder.  The  mo- 
ment in  which  you  yield  to  its  seductive  influences, 
that  moment  you  may  abandon  all  hope  for  the 
future,  and  "Lost"  will  be  tbe  epitaph  you  write 
upon  your  own  tombstone.  But  to  return  to  my 
story. 

As  I  have  said,  I  was  incapable  of  uttering  a 
word,  but  sat  stunned  and  speechless  by  the  terri- 
ble revelation  just  made.  After  the  silence  had 
continued  some  time,  my  husband  raised  his  head 
and  looked  timidly  jn  my  face.  He  started  at  the 
expression  he  saw  there. 

"  Why,  Minnie,"  said  he,  "  how  pale  you  look, 
and  so  dreadful.  Do  not  look  with  that  fixed  and 
stony  stare.  Reproach  me  ;  curse  me,  if  you  will — 
I  deserve  it  all — but  do  not  look  so  terribly  upon 
me." 

u  Oh !  Eugene,"  I  said,  bursting  into  tears,  "  why 
have  you  done  this  ?  Tell  me  all  about  it." 

"  Minnie,  I  have  nothing  to  tell,  nothing  to  say 
in  excuse  for  myself.  You  know  that,  in  my  bus- 
iness, I  am  constantly  thrown  in  company  with 


THE   LIFE    OF    A   BOOK    AGENT.  123 

what  are  called  ;  fast  men  ; '  and  that  it  is  my  dis- 
position to  be  gay  and  lively.  Well,  at  first — 
they  began  on  me  a  long  time  ago — they  used  to 

say  :     <  Come,  Eugene  ;  go  with  us  to 's  ;'  but 

I  would  refuse,  telling  them  I  must  go  home  to  my 
wife  and  babies  ;  '  my  wife  will  sit  up  until  1  come.' 
'  Well,  Eugene,'  they  would  say,  '  go  and  get  a 
drink  with  us  first.'  Thus  urged,  I  would  yield. 
One  drink  would  be  taken ;  then  another  and 
another,  until  I  would  forget  all  about  wife  and 
children.  But  it  was  a  long  time  before  they  could 
get  me  to  take  a  card.  At  last,  one  night,  after  I 
had  been  drinking  pretty  freely,  it  was  proposed 
that  we  should  have  a  quiet  game  of  cards  for  fun. 
To  this  I  consented,  and  we  began  to  play.  Finally, 
my  partner  proposed  a  bet  of  five  dollars  on  a 
hand  he  then  held.  I  refused  to  have  any  part  in 
it ;  but  he  and  another  man  bet,  and  my  partner 
won.  They  then  laughed  at  me  for  being  so  fear- 
ful of  a  paltry  bet ;  and  thus,  by  ridicule  and  en- 
treaty, and  by  plying  me  with  liquor,  they  at  last 
got  me  to  betting.  For  some  time  I  won  almost 
constantly,  and  then  I  began  to  lose.  Maddened 
by  my  losses,  and  by  the  liquid  poison  in  my  sys- 
tem and  muddling  my  brain,  I  kept  on  until  at 
last  I  awoke  to  find  myself  a  ruined  man.  That, 
Minnie,  is  the  whole  story." 

It  was  the  old,  old  story.  It  was  but  a  repetition 
of  the  arts  by  which  those  fiends  insatiate — those 
sharks,  who  prey  upon  the  follies  and  weaknesses 
of  their  fellow-men,  only  to  rob  them  of  wealth, 


124  THE   LIFE   OF   A   BOOK    AGENT. 

honor,  and  all  that  makes  life  desirable — always 
ensnare  their  victims.  If  there  is  one  being  upon 
the  face  of  the  earth  who  is  more  to  be  despised 
than  another,  surely  that  being  is  the  professional 
gambler;  if  one  sinner  deserves  a  higher  meed  of 
punishment  than  any  other,  it  is  that  creature  who, 
wearing  the  form  but  lacking  the  soul  of  a  man, 
makes  the  weak  points  of  those  with  whom  he  is 
thrown  in  contact  his  special  study,  only  that  he 
may  the  more  certainly  rob  them  of  all  the  jewels 
which  a  kind  and  beneficent  Creator  has  bestowed 
upon  them  ;  and,  if  it  were  possible  that  one  por- 
tion of  the  eternal  burning  should  be  hotter  than 
another,  surely  those  demons  would,  by  the  justice 
of  the  Almighty,  be  consigned  to  that  hotter  por- 
tion. 

I  could  not  reproach  my  husband ;  I  loved  him 
too  well  for  that ;  and,  beside,  I  felt  that  he  was 
more  to  be  pitied  than  blamed.  Possessed  of  a 
gay  and  lively  disposition,  generous  to  a  fault,  and 
fond  of  society,  he  was  just  the  man  to  be  se- 
lected by  these  sharpers  as  the  victim  of  their  dev- 
ilish arts ;  and  he  must  have  been  possessed  of 
more  than  human  virtue  had  he  been  able  to  resist 
the  many  wiles  and  temptations  with  which  they 
sftidiously  surrounded  him  :  and  yet,  I  could  not 
repress  the  reflection,  that  had  he  confided  in  me, 
at  the  time  I  first  appealed  to  him,  I  might  have 
saved  him.  But  that  was  now  all  past.  He  had 
tried  to  conceal  it  from  me  as  long  as  he  was  able ; 
had  retained  the  secret  in  his  own  breast  until 


THE    LIFE    OF    A    BOOK    AGENT.  125 

concealment  was  no  longer  possible  ;  until  he  must 
give  up  his  stables,  his  horses,  carriages ;  his  fine 
residence  and  furniture  and  servants  ;  and  now,  the 
only  question  was,  "  What  was  to  be  done?"  An 
examination  of  his  affairs  showed  that,  after  giving 
up  everything  he  had  in  the  world,  he  would  still 
fall  short  nearly  a  thousand  dollars  of  paying  his 
indebtedness,  and,  womanlike,  I  began  to  cast  about 
to  see  what  I  could  do  to  help  him. 

I  had  some  fine  jewelry  and  a  valuable  watch — 
presents  from  Eugene  in  our  brighter  and  happier 
days.  I  could  raise  two  or  three  thousand  dollars 
on  them,  but  what  would  that  amount  to  in  the  pay- 
ment of  the  enormous  debt  hanging  over  my  hus- 
band ?  It  would  be  but  a  drop  in  the  bucket ;  but, 
still,  every  dollar  would  help,  and  though  it  ground 
ray  heart  into  the  very  dust  to  think  of  parting 
with  these  precious  mementoes  of  his  love,  stern 
necessity  knows  no  law,  and  I  decided  that  they 
must  go.  But  what  could  be  done  to  save  us  a 
home  from  the  general  wreck  ?  I  could  ask  Cap- 
tain Lake  to  aid  us  in  this  emergency ;  but  though 
he  had  money  enough,  which  of  right  belonged  to 
me,  to  pay  off  all  Eugene's  debts,  I  very  much 
doubted  if  he  would  do  anything,  for  he  was  a 
close,  miserly  man,  who  never  gave  a  cent  for  char- 
ity on  any  other  noble  and  generous  purpose.  But 
what  else  could  be  done  ?  Our  home  would  be  sold 
the  next  day,  and  we  would  be  without  even  a 
shelter  for  our  heads,  and  I  must  try  what  I  could 
do. 


126  THE   LIFE    OF    A   BOOK    AGENT. 

Accordingly  I  went  to  Captain  Lake  and  told 
him  all  about  Eugene's  temptation  and  fall,  and 
my  plans  and  hopes  for  the  future,  and  besought 
him  to  aid  me  to  save  my  servants  and  furniture 
and  to  my  agreeable  surprise  he  agreed  to  do  so. 
I  blessed  him  from  the  bottom  of  my  heart,  hasten- 
ed home  and  told  my  husband  we  could  save  our 
furniture,  and  keep  our  home  ;  for  if  the  house  was 
sold  I  would  sell  my  diamonds  and  raise  money 
enough  to  pay  the  rent  of  it  for  a  year,  and  this 
would  give  him  a  chance  to  turn  around  and  begin 
business  anew.  I  told  him  of  my  interview  with 
Captain  Lake,  and  what  he  had  promised,  and  in- 
formed him  of  my  plans  for  the  future.  He  wept 
tears  of  joy  and  gratitude,  not  nnmingled  with  sor- 
row, at  the  sacrifices  I  was  making  on  his  account, 
and  solemnly  promised  me,  upon  bended  knees, 
that  he  would  reform,  and  would  apply  himself 
once  more  to  business,  and  try  to  redeem  our  prop- 
erty. He  implored  my  forgiveness  for  the  sorrow 
he  had  given  me,  and  faithfully  promised  that  he 
would  never  practice  such  concealment  from  me 
again. 

Of  course  I  gave  Mm  my  entire  forgiveness,  but 
could  not  refrain  from  telling  him  how  much  better 
I  thought  it  would  have  been  for  both  of  us,  had 
he  placed  in  me  the  confidence  which  every  husband 
should  feel  toward  a  true  and  loving  wife.  He  as- 
sented to  all  I  said  upon  this  point,  and  over  and 
over  again  called  me  his  guardian  angel,  and  prom- 
ised never  to  have  any  secrets  from  me  again.  But 


THE   LIFE   OF    A   BOOK    AGENT.  127 

even  at  the  time  of  registering  this  solemn  promise 
he  bore  within  his  breast  a  fearful  secret  which  was 
one  day  to  destroy  all  my  confidence  in  him,  and 
more  completely  blight  my  happiness  than  any- 
thing else  could  have  done. 

The  day  of  sale  came,  and  with  it  an  immense 
crowd ;  some  attracted  by  a  desire  to  speculate  out 
of  our  misfortunes,  and  others  by  that  insatiable 
and  inexplicable  feeling  of  curiosity  which  always 
prompts  envious  mortals  to  gaze  upon  the  fallen 
grandeur  of  others.  I  could  not  stay  at  home  and 
see  all  those  articles  which  were  so  dear  to  me 
hawked  about  by  an  unfeeling  mob,  who  knew  not 
their  sacredness,  and  accordingly  went  to  Captain 
Lake's.  On  my  way  out  I  passed  Captain  Lake 
going  into  the  city.  He  merely  smiled,  and  said, 
"All  is  well,"  in  response  to  my  eager  salutation. 
My  heart  was  heavy  with  grief,  but  it  is  impossi- 
ble to  portray  the  feeling  of  comfort  and  consolation 
which  those  simple  words  imparted  to  me.  I  felt 
that  it  was  indeed  well,  and  went  on  my  way  with 
a  lighter  heart  than  before.  The  bidding  upon 
some  articles  was  quite  spirited,  but  Captain  Lake 
bought  all  the  furniture,  and  the  three  servants, 
had  the  bill  of  sale  made  out  in  my  name,  and 
handed  it  over  to  me  saying,  "  Here,  Minnie,  is  a 
father's  gift  to  his  daughter."  I  felt  as  if  I  could 
have  fallen  down  and  kissed  his  feet  for  very  joy, 
and  my  heart  was  full  of  gratitude  for  his  kindness 
in  tliis  my  hour  of  trouble.  I  concluded  Captain 
Lake  was  not,  after  all,  so  bad  a  man  as  I  had  al- 


128  THE   LIFE    OF    A    BOOK    AGENT. 

ways  thought  him,  and  my  heart  smote  me,  as  I 
remembered  the  bitterness  which  had  once  filled 
my  heart  toward  him. 

In  the  evening,  after  the  sale  was  over  and  the 
crowd  had  gone  away,  I  went  home  and  soon  after 
reaching  there  a  gentleman  called  who  gave  his 
name  as  Mortimore.  I  at  once  recognized  the 
name  as  that  of  a  man  notorious  throughout  the 
city  for  being  a  great  gambler,  and  scrutinized  his 
countenance  closely.  It  was  cold,  impassive,  hard 
and  brutal,  just  what  the  countenance  of  a  gamble? 
should  be,  and,  though  his  manners  were  elegant, 
his  voice  and  speech  exactly  tallied  with  his 
countenance.  My  husband  was  not  in  when  he 
came,  and  without  any  preliminaries  he  told  me  the 
house  belonged  to  him ;  that  he  had  bought  it  that 
day  at  the  sale,  and  he  would  like  us  to  move  out 
immediately,  as  he  had  use  for  it.  This  informa- 
tion was  imparted  in  a  hard,  measured  tone, 
which  was  plainly  intended  to  intimate  that  the 
matter  would  admit  of  no  debate. 

"  But,  sir,  what  use  do  you  intend  to  make  of  it  ? 
Do  you  intend  to  occupy  it  yourself?" 

"No;  I  shall  rent  it." 

"  But  we  cannot  move  to-night,  and,  beside,  this 
furniture  and  the  servants  are  all  here,  and  must 
be  taken  care  of." 

"The  gentleman  who  bought  the  niggers  and 
furniture  will  no  doubt  take  them  away  immedi- 
ately ;  and  as  I  can  get  eleven  hundred  dollars  a 
year  for  the  house,  I  want  to  rent  it  at  once,  and 


THE   LIFE    OF    A   BOOK    AGENT.  129 

you  must  move.  Of  course,  you  have  no  money  to 
pay  rent  with." 

u  Is  eleven  hundred  dollars  a  year  your  price  for 
the  house  ? " 

"It  is." 

"  I  will  take  it  for  a  year." 

"  You,  madam  !  " 

"  Yes,  sir  I  will  take  it.  You  can  call  day  after 
to-morrow  morning  and  get  your  money  for  a  year's 
rent." 

"  You  will  pay  me  eleven  hundred  dollars  day 
after  to-morrow  ? " 

"I  have  said  so." 

"  But  what  will  you  do  for  furniture  ? " 

"  Know,  sir,  that  this  furniture  and  -these  ser- 
vants are  mine.  The  gentleman  who  bought  them 
is  my  father,  and  he  bought  them  for  me." 

"  Madam,  I  beg  your  pardon.  Did  I  understand 
you  to  say  that  this  furniture  was  yours,  and  that 
you  would  pay  me  eleven  hundred  dollars,  day 
after  to-morrow,  for  the  house  ? " 

"  I  said  so,  sir.     Can  we  have  the  house  ? " 

"  Certainly,  madam — certainly." 

"  Will  you  now  do  me  the  favor  to  go  ?  " 

He  at  once  complied  with  my  request,  and  bowed 
himself  out,  quite  crestfallen,  and  much  more 
respectful  in  his  manner  than  when  he  came  to 
order  us  to  vacate  at  once.  Soon  after  his  depar- 
ture my  husband  came  in,  and  when  I  told  him 
what  had  taken  place,  his  indignation  knew  no 
bounds.  He  was  for  following  the  brute,  and  in- 

9 


130  THE   LIFE   OF   A   BOOK    AGENT. 

Hiding  summary  chastisement,  upon  him  for  his 
impudence.  He  had  no  kindly  feeling  toward  the 
author  of  all  our  misfortunes,  and  this  last  insult 
caused  the  cup  of  his  wrath  to  boil  over.  But  I 
restrained  him,  and  finally  soothed  him  into  a 
promise  to  take  no  notice  whatever  of  his  brutality. 

The  next  day  I  sold  my  jewelry,  my  watch  and 
chain,  and  all  my  silverware,  and  we  found  that, 
after  paying  the  year's  rent,  we  could  raise  about 
two  thousand  dollars  for  my  husband  to  begin 
anew  with.  He  thought  that,  by  going  into  the 
business  of  buying  and  selling  horses,  he  could 
do  well,  and,  in  time,  regain  something  like  our  old 
position.  This  would  necessarily  take  him  from 
home  a  great  deal,  and  I  dreaded  his  removal  from 
my  influence,  fearing  he  would  relapse  into  his  old 
habits  again ;  but  there  seemed  no  other  chance  to 
do  anything,  and  I  yielded  a  reluctant  consent. 

Mortimore  came  the  next  morning  for  his  rent, 
but  his  manner  was  altogether  different  from  what 
it  had  been  when  he  was  there  before.  Eugene 
would  not  see  him  at  all,  fearing  he  would  be  so 
much  exasperated  at  the  sight  of  him  as  to  be 
unable  to  restrain  himself;  but  I  paid  him  his 
money,  and  took  from  him  a  receipt  in  full  for  one 
year's  rent  of  the  house  that  had  been  ours  alone 
before  the  baneful  shadow  of  his  presence  fell 
across  my  poor  Eugene's  pathway.  My  heart  was 
full  almost  to  bursting  as  these  reflections  rushed 
across  my  mind;  but,  in  the  midst  of  all,  I  re- 


THE   LIFE    OF   A    BOOK    AGENT.  131 

joiced  that  I  had  been  able  to  save  even  so  much 
from  the  general  wreck. 

After  making  the  necessary  arrangements,  my 
husband  set  out  on  a  trading  trip,  intending  to  be 
gone  about  six  weeks ;  and  he  solemnly  renewed 
to  me,  at  parting,  his  promise  that  he  would  not 
touch  either  cards  or  liquor.  And  I  have  every 
reason  to  believe  that,  during  that  trip  at  least,  he 
faithfully  kept  his  promise. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

IT  had  been  about  six  weeks  since  my  husband 
started  away,  and  the  time  of  his  expected  re- 
turn was  at  hand.  My  anxiety  to  see  him  was 
intense  ;  for,  despite  my  confidence  in  his  promises, 
I  could  not  repress  a  feeling  of  uneasiness  lest  he 
should  be  met  by  temptation  too  strong  for  him  to 
overcome.  I  knew  that  he  was  not  fully  weaned 
from  the  excitement  of  his  former  evil  associations, 
and  dreaded  the  effect  of  his  meeting  once  more 
the  society  into  which  I  supposed  he  would  be 
thrown. 

As  for  myself,  I  had  got  along  finely  during  his 
absence.  I  had  hired  Tom  and  Caroline  out,  re- 
taining only  aunt  Silvie  at  home ,  and,  with  the 
wages  which  they  earned,  and  the  little  money 
I  had  when  Eugene  went  away,  had  lived  very 
comfortably,  and  had  managed  to  save  a  little 
something.  Caroline  was  the  nurse,  and,  as  I  had 
never  been  accustomed  to  having  the  care  of  the 
children  myself,  it  went  rather  awkwardly  at  first 
to  do  without  her,  but  I  could  do  it,  and  would  do 
that  or  anything  else,  to  economize  our  slender 
resources,  and  enable  my  husband  to  get  another 
start  in  the  world. 

At  length  Eugene  came.  And  as  soon  as  I  saw 
him  I  was  satisfied  he  had  been  true  to  his  promise. 

(132) 


THE    LIFE    OF    A    BOOK    AGENT.  133 

His  eyes  and  countenance  were  clear,  and  bore  no 
trace  of  dissipation,  and  lie  met  my  gaze  without 
flinching.  He  seemed  to  read  my  anxiety  in  my 
countenance,  and  laughing  a  little,  quiet,  good- 
natured  sort  of  laugh,  he  said : 

u  Minnie,  dismiss  your  fears  and  doubts.  I  have 
most  faithfully  kept  my  promise,  and  have  broken 
company  forever  with  those  vile  habits  which 
caused  our  ruin.-' 

What  words  of  joy  to  me!  Although  I  had 
never  really  doubted  him,  still  it  was,  before  that 
time,  impossible  to  rid  myself  of  some  slight  traces 
of  fear,  not  for  the  uprightness  of  his  intentions — 
oh  !  no,  I  never  even  suspected  that — but  I  trembled 
for  his  strength.  I  knew  he  had  once  been  tempted 
and  had  fallen,  and  I  trembled  at  the  bare  thought 
of  his  being  thus  fearfully  tried  again.  But  now 
I  felt  that  temptation  was  powerless  against  him. 
He  was  clad  in  impenetrable  armor,  and  could 
laugh  to  scorn  the  fiercest  shafts  of  the  enemy. 

He  had  met  with  the  most  extraordinary  good 
fortune  during  this  trip,  and  had,  during  the  short 
space  of  less  than  two  months,  almost  doubled  the 
money  with  which  he  started  out.  He  had  pur- 
chased one  drove  of  horses,  upon  which  alone  he 
had  cleared  nearly  one  thousand  dollars,  and  every 
adventure  in  which  he  had  engaged  had  been  in 
the  highest  degree  successful.  Of  course  he  could 
not  always  expect  to  meet  with  such  success ; 
doubtless  he  would  sometimes  lose  on  some  of  his 
bargains,  but  the  happy  results  of  this  trip  elated 


134  THE   LIFE   OF   A    BOOK    AGENT. 

us  in  the  highest  degree,  and  we  at  once  set  about 
forming  our  plans  for  obtaining  another  home. 
Our  rent  was  paid  for  a  year  where  we  were,  and, 
of  course,  we  would  remain  there  until  that  ex- 
pired. He  would  continue  his  trading  speculations 
during  that  time,  and,  if  attended  with  any  degree 
of  success,  he  would  be  able,  at  the  end  of  the 
year  to  purchase  a  home  of  our  own,  and  thus  save 
the  enormous  rent  we  were  now  compelled  to  pay. ' 
Thus  we  looked  at  the  future;  thus  in  roseate 
colors  it  presented  itself  to  us,  and  we  were  as 
happy  that  night  as  two  human  beings  could  well 
be — happier,  I  doubt  not,  than  if  we  had  never 
known  the  chastening  fires  of  adversity. 

And  our  fine  laid  plans  were  carried  into  effect. 
During  the  entire  year  my  husband  spent  but 
little  time  at  home,  applying  himself  with  the 
utmost  assiduity  to  the  calling  he  had  marked 
out  for  himself,  and  though  never  again,  during 
the  entire  year,  did  he  have  such  extraordinary 
good  fortune  as  upon  that  first  trip — though  he 
even  lost  money  on  some  of  his  investments — still 
he  was  slowly  but  steadily  increasing  the  sum  at 
his  banker's  which  was  finally  to  buy  us  a  home. 
I,  too,  did  what  I  could  to  aid  him,  continued  to 
practice  every  species  of  economy  of  which  I  was 
mistress,  and  the  result  was,  that  at  the  end  of  the 
year  we  found  ourselves  in  possession  of  sufficient 
means  to  buy  a  very  comfortable  house,  though  by 
no  means  equal  to  the  one  we  were  quitting.  But 
we  left  it  without  regret.  If  our  new  home  was 


THE   LIFE   OF   A   BOOK    AGENT*  135 

less  stately  and  magnificent  than  the  old  one — if  I 
had  not  as  fine  jewelry  and  costly  plate  as  before — 
still  the  home  was  our  own,  and,  best  of  all,  my 
husband  was  saved.  Was  I  not  once  more  a  happy 
women ! 

But  fate  was  not  done  persecuting  us,  nor  were 
our  misfortunes  yet  ended.  Scarcely  had  we  got 
settled  in  our  new  home,  when  our  little  Carrie  was 
prostrated  by  a  most  violent  attack  of  fever,  and 
for  three  weeks  she  lay  at  death's  door.  Eugene 
was  from  home  when  she  was  taken  ill,  and  it  was 
a  long  time  before  I  could  get  any  message  to  him, 
not  knowing  his  whereabouts,  and  I  really  feared 
she  would  die  before  he  came  home.  We  had 
learned  to  love  her  as  one  of  our  own,  and  the  idea 
of  her  dying  in  his  absence  was  inexpressibly 
painful  to  me.  The  thought  of  losing  her  under 
any  circumstances  was  the  most  acute  torture  ;  but, 
when  to  this  was  added  the  dread  of  her  dying 
without  her  adopted  father  seeing  her,  the  agony 
was  almost  insupportable. 

But,  thank  God,  I  was  spared  this  trial.  I  suc- 
ceeded in  learning  where  my  husband  was,  and  at 
once  sent  a  special  messenger  for  him.  Of  course 
he  dropped  all  business  at  once,  and  hastened 
home  by  the  most  expeditious  conveyance,  and  but 
a  few  days  elapsed  after  his  arrival  until  the  old 
physician,  who  had  given  her  the  most  unremitting 
care  and  attention,  announced  to  us  that  the  crisis 
of  her  disease  was  passed,  and  that  her  life  would 
be  saved.  Never  was  a  sentence  uttered  which 


136  THE   LIFE   OF   A   BOOK   AGENT. 

• 

conveyed  more  joy  to  a  human  heart  than  that  did 
to  mine.  During  her  long  illness  I  either  sat  by 
her  little  crib  or  held  her  in  my  arms  almost  the 
whole  time,  and  to  know  that  my  watching  and 
care  had  not  been  in  vain,  and  that  she  would  be 
saved  to  us,  filled  my  heart  with  thankfulness. 
Of  course  she  was  not  out  of  danger  yet,  and  it 
was  a  long  time  before  she  was  well  again ;  but 
the  worst  was  now  over,  and  together  we  lifted  up 
our  voices  in  thanksgiving  to  Him  who  had  kindly 
given  us  the  life  of  our  little  one,  even  after  almost 
all  hope  seemed  lost. 

But  another  of  our  little  family  was  to  pass 
through  the  same  ordeal.  Scarcely  had  the  crisis 
of  Carrie's  illness  passed  when  Frankie  was  smit- 
ten down  by  the  same  disease.  The  attack,  though 
less  protracted  than  Carrie's  case,  was  more  vio- 
lent ;  and  for  ten  days  his  moans  of  anguish  and 
cries  of  pain  thrilled  in  my  ears,  and  transfixed 
every  nerve  of  my  frame  with  the  most  acute  agony. 
But  he,  too,  through  the  mercy  of  God,  and  the 
skill  of  our  venerable  physician,  was  saved  to  us ; 
and  again  we  wept  tears  of  joy  and  thankfulness 
as  we  bent  over  our  little  lamb,  snatched,  as  it 
were,  from  the  very  jaws  of  death. 

But  these  afflictions  had  sadly  deranged  our  af- 
fairs. We  not  only  had  heavy  medical  bills  to  pay, 
but  the  constant  watching  had  so  worn  me  out 
that  we  were  compelled  to  summon  Caroline  home, 
and  we  thus  lost  the  aid  of  the  wages  she  was 
earning,  while  our  expenses  at  home  were  percep- 


THE   LIFE   OF   A    BOOK    AGENT.  137 

tibly  increased.  Besides,  Eugene  had  entirely 
neglected  his  business  in  the  care  of  the  children, 
and  through  the  incapacity,  or  rascality,  of  an 
agent  whom  he  had  left  in  charge  of  his  stock 
when  he  came  home,  he  not  only  entirely  lost  sev- 
eral horses,  but  the  others,  for  want  of  care  and 
attention,  so  much  depreciated  in  value  that  he 
lost  nearly  a  thousand  dollars  upon  the  stock  he 
had  on  hand.  This  amount  which  would  once  have 
appeared  so  trilling  to  us,  at  this  time  made  a  very 
serious  hole  in  our  limited  finances,  and  rendered 
still  further  economy  and  care  necessary  in  the 
management  of  our  affairs. 

About  this  time,  also,  I  received  a  letter  from  the 
far  away  land  of  California,  which  caused  my 
heart  to  beat  with  the  most  anxious  fears,  for 
though  it  bore  the  Sacramento  post-mark  it  was 
written  in  a  strange  hand,  and  my  first  thought 
was  that  my  brother,  the  only  member  of  my  fa- 
ther's family  under  the  broad  canopy  of  heaven,, 
was  dead.  I  felt  sick  at  heart,  and  for  a  time  hesi- 
tated to  open  it,  dreading  the  confirmation  of  my 
worst  fears,  but  when  I  finally  mustered  courage 
enough  to  open  the  seal,  it  was  not  quite  so  bad  as 
I  had  thought,  though  still  bad  enough.  Frank 
was  not  dead,  though  very  sick,  and  among  entire 
strangers,  his  only  acquaintance  there  being  the 
friend  and  comrade  who  had  written  the  letter  to 
me  at  his  request.  The  writer  stated  that  Frank 
was  very  much  disheartened,  and  was  under  the 
impression  that  he  would  never  be  any  better,  but 


138  THE    LIFE    OF    A    BOOK    AGENT. 

that  his  bones  would  be  laid  to  rest  in  that  far-off 
land. 

The  reader  may  imagine,  but  words  will  hardly 
express  the  pain  with  which  this  intelligence  thrill- 
ed my  heart.  My  brother  Frank — my  last  surviv- 
ing blood  relation,  the  brother  to  whom  I  had  been 
wont  to  look  for  direction  and  assistance  in  every 
trouble — was  lying  dangerously  ill  in  a  distant 
country,  among  strangers — doubtless  deprived  of 
every  comfort,  and  even  of  the  nursing  and  atten- 
tion which  his  condition  demanded,  and  I  was  pow- 
erless to  do  anything  to  aid  him.  I  would  have 
given  anything  to  be  with  him,  but  many  thousand 
miles  of  wild  and  sterile  land  separated  us ;  and 
even  had  it  been  possible  for  me  to  get  to  him,  the 
situation  of  my  own  family  would  have  precluded 
me  from  making  the  attempt.  I  looked  at  the 
date  of  the  letter — it  was  nearly  three  months  since 
it  had  been  written — and  who  could  tell  whether 
my  poor  brother's  gloomy  anticipations  had  been 
realized  during  that  time  ?  Yes  ;  I  felt  that  it  must 
be  so.  His  depression  of  spirits,  it  seemed  to  me, 
must  have  exercised  a  serious  influence  upon  his 
disease ;  and  I  felt  assured  that  his  career  must 
have  ended,  far  from  home  and  friends,  and  that 
his  last  resting-place  was  in  some  wild,  gloomy 
dell,  unmarked  by  any  memento  which  would  aid 
me  in  any  way  to  identify  it,  should  I  ever  wish  to 
visit  and  water  it  with  my  tears.  Ah  !  how  sad  was 
this  reflection  to  my  already  sorely- tried  spirit. 

For  the  next  three  weeks  I  was  infinitely  miser- 


THE    LIFE    OF    A   BOOK    AGENT.  139 

able.  Fancy  was  constantly  presenting  to  my 
mental  vision  the  most  vivid  pictures  of  the  imag- 
inary death-scene  of  my  brother ;  and  even  in  my 
dreams  I  heard  his  voice  calling  upon  me  for  that 
assistance  and  comfort  which  I  was  utterly  power- 
less to  render.  But,  at  the  end  of  that  time  came 
a  letter  which  turned  all  my  mourning  into  joy, 
and  my  weepings  into  songs  of  praise  and  thanks- 
giving. My  brother,  instead  of  dying  as  he  antic- 
ipated, and  as  his.  friend  thought  he  certainly 
would,  had  finally  recovered,  and  would  start  home 
as  soon  as  he  could  close  up  his  business,  which 
would  be  in  about  three  or  four  weeks  from  the 
date  of  the  letter. 

According  to  this,  he  must  be  on  his  way  home, 
and  would  no  doubt  soon  be  here.  Oh  !  with  what 
joy  I  received  this  intelligence,  and  how  earnestly 
did  I  look  forward  to  the  time  of  our  anticipated 
meeting.  Time  seemed  to  me  to  move  all  too  slow, 
and  it  was  with  the  utmost  impatience  that  I 
watched  for  his  arrival.  When  it  is  remembered 
by  the  reader  that  it  was  almost  five  years  since 
I  had  parted  with  him,  beside  the  grave  of  our 
father,  in  the  city  of  Philadelphia,  it  will  not  be 
thought  strange  that  my  anxiety  for  his  coming  was 
almost  insupportable.  My  husband  used  to  rally 
me,  good-naturedly,  of  course,  upon  my  impatience, 
and  to  say  that  he  should  be  jealous  if  I  persisted 
in  such  demonstration  of  evident  affection  for  "  this 
foreigner,"  as  he  styled  him ;  and  I  would  retort 


140  THE    LIFE    OF    A    BOOK    AGENT. 

that,  if  he  became  at  all  disagreeable,  I  should  for- 
sake him  entirely  for  the  u  foreigner." 

At  last  he  came,  and  the  reader  need  not  be 
told  that  his  greeting  was  the  warmest  that  it  was 
in  my  power  to  bestow,  for  words  will  hardly  ex- 
press my  joy  at  again  meeting  him.  But  how  he 
was  changed  in  the  five  years  since  our  adieus  were 
spoken  beside  our  father's  tomb  !  Then  his  ap- 
pearance was  that  of  a  smooth-faced  and  rather 
delicate-appearing  youth  :  now  he  was  a  man — tall, 
robust  and  stalwart,  his  face  bronzed,  and  his  mus- 
cles hardened  by  toil  and  exposure,  while  a  heavy, 
dark  beard  and  mustache  entirely  concealed  the 
lower  part  of  his  face,  and  gave  him  a  sort  of  brig- 
andish  look,  so  different  from  his  former  gentle  and 
almost  effeminate  appearance  that,  had  I  not  been 
expecting  his  arrival,  I  should  certainly  never  have 
recognized  him.  But  how  he  had  improved  !  His 
robust,  manly  frame,  and  fine  muscular  develop- 
ment, now  challenged  my  admiration,  as  his  kind- 
ness to  me  in  former  days  had  won  my  affection ; 
and  I  was  now  as  proud  of  my  brother  as  it  was 
possible  for  a  sister  to  be ;  while,  upon  his  part, 
his  affection  for  me  seemed  to  be  stronger  and 
more  enduring  than  ever.  But  we  were  not  per-* 
"mitted  long  to  enjoy  the  happiness  of  our  reunion. 
Events  were  already  at  work  which  were  to  sever 
forever  the  ties  that  had  bound  us  so  closely  to 
each  other  during  the  whole  of  our  lives. 

My   brother    returned    from    California   in   the 
month     of     December,      1860.      The    election    of 


THE    LIFE    OF    A    BOOK    AGENT.  141 

Abraham  Lincoln  as  President  of  the  United 
States  had  just  taken  place,  and  the  events  of 
that  fall  and  winter  are  fresh  in  the  minds  of 
my  readers.  The  entire  South  was  full  of  feverish 
excitement.  State  after  State  was  adopting  the 
ordinance  of  secession ;  the  air  was  vocal  with  the 
sounds  of  military  preparation ;  and  the  universal 
topic  of  conversation  was,  independence  and  war 
to  the  knife  against  the  so-called  Abolition  en- 
croachments. 

I  am  about  to  enter  into  no  apology  for  the  re- 
bellion which  so  long  convulsed  our  land  and 
drenched  it  in  fraternal  gore ;  which  has  clothed 
every  house  in  mourning,  and  inliicted  wounds 
which  cannot  be  healed  until  this  generation  shall 
have  passed  away.  On  the  contrary,  impartial 
history  will  record  our  late  civil  war  as  the  most 
egregious  folly,  if  not  the  most  gigantic  crime,  of 
the  world's  annals.  Abjuring  at  once  all  obliga- 
tion to  that  Government  which  had  so  long  fostered 
them,  and  under  which  they  had  become  opulent 
and  powerful,  the  Southern  States  plunged 
into  a  ferocious  and  bloody  warfare,  for  the  pur- 
pose of  protecting  certain  species  of  property 
against  the  fancied  designs  of  men  who  were 
supposed  to  be  hostile  to  its  further  continuance  : 
and  the  result  has  been  just  what  might  have 
been  anticipated  by  any  one  not  maddened  by  the 
excitement  which  ruled  the  entire  South  at  this 
time.  The  property  in  defense  of  which  they  took 
up  arms  has  been  swept  away  entirely  and  for- 


142  THE    LIFE   OF   A    BOOK    AGENT. 

ever ;  their  land  has  been  impoverished  to  the  ex- 
tent of  millions  of  dollars  ;  and  every  Southern 
heart  is  compelled  to  bear  the  burden  of  mourn- 
ing for  relatives  slain  and  maimed  in  the  cause 
irpon  which  the  blessing  of  heaven  never  rested. 

That  there  were  many  good  men  whose  hearts 
disapproved  of  the  part  they  were  acting,  and 
who  saw  no  just  cause  of  rebellion  in  the  then 
existing  condition  of  affairs ;  but  who  were  forced 
into  the  revolt  against  their  will,  by  the  force 
of  popular  opinion,  by  the  wily  arts  of  unscrupu- 
lous demagogues,  and  by  the  mischievous  doc- 
trines of  "  States'  rights  "  which  had  been  so  long 
inculcated  by  leading  Southern  politicians,  is  no 
doubt  true ;  and  for  such  men  I  have  no  words 
of  condemnation.  While  their  folly  is  to  be 
most  bitterly  deplored — not  only  for  the  sake  of 
general  humanity,  but,  also,  in  view  of  the  fearful 
consequences  which  have  followed  their  delusion — 
still  must  they  be  acquitted  of  the  terrible  crimin- 
ality which  attends  their  leaders.  But  for  these 
last,  for  those  who  imposed  upon  them  that 
delusion — those  who  molded  and  formed  that 
public  opinion  by  which  they  were  precipitated 
into  the  rebellion — the  blood  of  a  million  of 
slaughtered  victims,  and  the  tears  of  countless 
widows  and  orphans  cry  aloud  for  vengeance. 
And  so  sure  as  there  is  a  just  God  who  shall  here- 
after reward  every  man  according  to  his  works,  so 
sure  will  these  men  have  a  fearful  account  to 
render  hereafter. 


THE    LIFE    OF    A    BOOK    AGENT.  143 

My  brother  was  one  of  those  men  who,  by  the 
arts  of  those  leaders,  was  duped  into  giving  his 
support  to  this  movement.  Born  and  bred  in  the 
South,  thoroughly  imbued  with  the  pernicious 
doctrine  of  State  sovereignty,  ignorant  of  the  arts 
of  wily  arid  scheming  politicians,  reading  only 
those  publications  which  depicted  in  the  most 
glowing  terms  the  dangerous  doctrines  and  designs 
of  the  abolitionists,  generous  and  manly  to  a  fault, 
and  glowing  with  a  hatred  of  oppression  and  re- 
sentment for  real  or  fancied  injury,  what  wonder 
that,  viewing  the  matter  from  a  standpoint  to 
which  he  had  been  educated,  he  earnestly  espoused 
the  cause  of  his  native  section,  threatened,  as  he 
suppose^  her  to  l^e,  with  almost  entire  destruc- 
tion by  the  fanatics  of  the  North  ?  In  vain  I 
reasoned  with  and  entreated  him  not  to  engage  in 
the  struggle  at  all — to  at  least  remain  neutral.  His 
reply  was  that  his  honor  was  at  at  stake,  and 
that  his  conscience  would  not  suffer  him  to  re- 
main an  idle  spectator  of  the  contest  in  which  it 
might  be  the  life  of  his  country  was  the  stake.  In 
vain  my  husband  seconded  my  arguments  and  en- 
treaties with  the  means  at  his  command — we  were 
powerless  to  move  him,  and  each  day  saw  him  a 
more  and  more  ardent  advocate  of  the  independ- 
ence of  the  South.  Captain  Lake,  who  had  em- 
braced with  the  utmost  ardor  the  cause  of  the 
South,  used  all  his  influence  with  Frank  against 
us,  and  his  doctrines  harmonizing  entirely  with 


144  THE   LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT. 

Frank's  inclinations,   made  him  a  most  powerful 
antagonist. 

At  length  came  the  actual  commencement  of 
hostilities,  the  attack  upon  Fort  Sumter,  and  the 
entire  nation,  both  North  and  South,  was  con- 
vulsed as  by  a  mighty  electric  shock.  As  the  news 
flashed  from  place  to  place  along  the  wires,  busi- 
ness of  every  kind  was  suspended,  and  everything 
gave  way  to  the  work  of  raising  troops  for  the 
struggle  then  inaugurated.  The  city  of  Atlanta 
was  no  exception  to  the  general  rule.  The  stores 
were  generally  closed,  eager  and  excited  crowds 
thronged  the  streets  ;  the  stirring  notes  of  fife  and 
drum  were  heard  at  all  hours  of  the  day  and  night ; 
at  every  street  corner  excited  and  eloquent  speakers 
harangued  equally  excited  crowds,  urging  them  to 
rush  to  arms  in  support  of  their  threatened  and 
endangered  liberties ;  the  listeners  testified  their 
approbation  by  consent  and  wild  cheering,  and 
the  enlistment  of  men  proceeded  with  almost  mar- 
velous rapidity.  Young  and  old,  rich  and  poor, 
all  classes  vied  in  their  efforts  to  secure  a  place  in 
the  ranks  of  the  army,  and  none  who  applied  were 
turned  away.  Could  they,  at  that  time,  have 
foreseen  the  results  of  the  mad  excitement  of  that 
hour,  could  they  have  had  the  slighest  glimpse  of 
the  horrid  events  of  the  coming  four  years,  how 
many  would  have  recoiled,  shuddering,  from  the 
act  they  were  now  so  eager  to  do. 

Among  the  earliest  to  enroll  himself  was  Captain 
Lake,  though  already  over  fifty  years  of  age.     He 


THE    LIFE    OF    A    BOOK    AGENT.  145 

was  lustily  cheered  by  the  unthinking  mob,  who 
saw  him  sign  his  name  to  what  eventually  proved 
his  death-warrant,  and  was  rewarded  for  his 
"  patriotism"  by  being  elected  commander  of  the 
company  of  which  lie  was  a  member.  He  at  once 
proceeded  to  organize  his  command,  was  duly 
commissioned  a  captain,  and  entered  the  service 
of  the  Confederacy  in  that  capacity. 

The  next  day  my  brother,  whom  I  had  not  seen 
since  the  beginning  of  the  fierce  excitement,  came 
home  and  told  me  that  he,  too,  had  enlisted  and 
had  been  chosen  First  Lieutenant  of  his  company. 
I  wept  bitter  tears  at  this  intelligence,  but  the 
deed  was  done,  and  it  was  too  late  to  undo  the 
evil,  nor  would  I  then  urge  him  to  forsake  his 
plighted  faith.  Although  my  heart  disapproved 
the  cause,  still  I  could  not  but  admire  the  man- 
hood which  led  him  to  this  step,  and  having  once 
taken  it,  I  felt  that  he  would  be  dishonored  were 
he  to  retract,  but  the  contemplation  of  the  future 
had  no  charms  for  me.  He  tried  to  comfort  me  by 
telling  me  that  there  would  be  no  war,  that  the 
North  would  not  fight,  and  that  all  they  had  to  do 
was  to  make  a  display  of  force,  and  in  six  weeks 
their  ends  would  be  obtained,  and  they  would  all 
be  at  home  again.  But  all  he  could  say  to  me  did 
not  divest  my  mind  of  the  impression  that  I  should 
never  see  him  again.  Was  this  a  presentiment? 
He  then  tried  to  induce  my  husband  to  go  into  the 
army  with  him,  using  all  the  arguments  his 

imagination  could  suggest  in  favor  of  this  course, 
10 


146  THE   LIFE   OF  A   BOOK   AGENT. 

and  making  the  most  extravagant  promises  of 
future  good  if  he  would  consent  to  do  so.  But  his 
arguments  and  entreaties  were  alike  unavailing, 
and  Eugene  continued  firm  in  his  refusal. 

But  a  few  days  were  allowed  the  newly  raised 
troops  in  which  to  prepare  for  leaving  their  homes, 
many  of  them,  alas !  never  to  return.  Captain 
Lake,  before  his  departure,  perhaps  realizing  how 
foully  he  had  wronged  me,  and  willing  to  make 
what  amends  he  could,  made  a  sort  of  will,  de- 
vising fifty  thousand  dollars  to  me  in  the  event  of 
his  death.  My  brother,  too,  having  been  eminently 
successful  in  California,  made  the  most  generous 
provision  for  me  in  case  of  his  death.  He  had 
brought  home  some  eighty  thousand  dollars,  and 
he  gave  the  strongest  proof  of  his  fraternal  affection 
by  devising  the  whole  of  this  vast  sum  for  my  ben- 
efit. Had  I  been  able,  gentle  reader,  to  secure  the 
benefit  of  this  munificent  provision  for  my  future, 
this  story  had  most  likely  never  been  written,  for 
many  of  the  vicissitudes  of  my  life  had  then  never 
taken  place. 

Within  a  day  or  two  after  these  dispositions  were 
made  my  brother  came  to  bid  me  good-bye.  He 
was  clad  in  the  uniform  of  his  command,  and  though 
at  sight  of  it  my  tears  flowed  afresh,  still  I  could 
not  but  feel  a  natural  pride  in  the  erect  and  manly 
carriage  which  distinguished  him,  and  the  grace 
with  which  he  bore  himself  in  his  new  position. 
But  the  adieus  were  soon  spoken,  and  in  a  few 
minutes  I  had  again  parted  with  my  only  living 


THE   LIFE    OF   A   BOOK    AGENT.  147 

relative,  and  this  time  it  really  was,  what  I  had 
often  before  imagined,  a  parting  forever  on  this 
side  of  eternity. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

TIME  in  its  ever-ceaseless  flight  passed  away — 
the  days  lengthened  into  weeks,  and  the  weeks 
grew  into  months,  and  instead  of  the  war  being 
ended  in  six  weeks,  as  its  advocates  prophesied,  it 
was  evident  to  the  most  casual  observer  that  it  was 
but  just  begun.  The  North  had  displayed  a  spirit 
entirely  unexpected  by  the  leaders  of  the  secession 
movement.  The  unanimity  of  the  people  of  that 
section  in  springing  to  arms  was  most  astonishing, 
and,  if  possible,  excelled  the  ardor  of  the  South- 
erners. Bloodshed  there  had  been,  too,  notwith- 
standing the  predictions  of  the  champions  of 
rebellion  to  the  contrary.  The  bloody  battle  of 
Bull  Run  had  been  fought,  and,  though  resulting 
in  a  victory  over  the  National  forces,  had  carried 
grief  and  mourning' to  many  a  Southern  home,  and 
had  clothed  in  the  habiliments  of  woe  many  a  fair 
daughter  of  that  sunny  clime.  My  brother  partic- 
ipated in  that  battle,  and  for  a  long  time  after  tid- 
ings of  the  conflict  came,  how  earnestly  did  I  look 
for  some  intelligence  from  him,  for  I  trembled  lest 
his  name,  too,  should  be  found  among  the  long  list 
of  the  slain. 

But  at  last  I  received  intelligence  from  him.  His 
regiment  had  been  engaged  and  had  suffered  se- 
verely;  his  captain  had  been  killed,  and  the  com- 

(148) 


THE   LIFE   OF    A    BOOK    AGENT.  149 

mand  of  the  company  having  in  consequence  de- 
volved upon  him,  he  had  discharged  the  duties  of 
his  trust  in  such  a  manner  as  to  win  the  favorable 
notice  of  his  colonel.  He  had  been  recommended 
for  promotion,  and  had  no  doubt  he  would  be  com- 
missioned captain  in  the  place  of  him  who  had 
fallen.  How  proud  I  was  to  have  this  intelligence 
of  him  ;  for  though  I  regarded  him  as  the  victim  of 
a  dreadful  delusion,  still  was  he  not  my  brother, 
and  should  I  not  glory  in  his  bravery  and  man- 
hood, even  though  displayed  in  a  bad  cause  ?  Ac- 
companying this  letter  was  a  list  of  the  killed  and 
wounded  of  our  acquaintances,  which  I  waded 
through,  shuddering  as  I  came  to  each  familiar 
name,  until,  when  the  end  was  at  last  reached,  I 
felt  sick  at  heart.  Uninformed  and  ignorant  as  I 
was  of  all  that  pertains  to  war,  I  could  see  that 
this  was  but  a  beginning,  and  I  trembled  as  the 
question  forced  itself  upon  me,  what  would  be  the 
end,  and  how  long  it  would  be  before  the  name  of 
my  brother  would  be  included  in  some  such  horrid 
list  as  the  one  before  me  !  I  felt  an  almost  assured 
conviction  that  he  would  fall  sooner  or  later,  and 
this  thought  was  ever  present,  poisoning  all  my 
joys,  and  investing  my  solitary  hours  with  a  bit- 
terness almost  insupportable. 

Meantime  the  war  went  on.  The  JSTorth  was 
making  the  most  strenuous  exertions  to  raise  and 
equip  an  army  sufficient  to  bear  down  all  opposi- 
tion, and  corresponding  exertions  had  to  be  made 
by  the  Southern  States  to  bring  into  the  field  an 


150  THE   LIFE    OF    A   BOOK    AGENT. 

army  sufficient  to  cope  with  the  National  force. 
The  Southern  people  found  that  the  war  was  not 
the  mere  play-spell  they  had  anticipated,  and  the 
force  of  popular  opinion  was  no  longer  sufficient  to 
raise  such  armies  as  the  exigency  demanded.  In 
order,  therefore,  to  give  new  force  to  that  popular 
opinion,  the  President  of  the  Confederacy,  about 
this  time,  issued  his  famous  proclamation,  warning 
all  persons  who  were  not  willing  to  take  up  arms 
in  defense  of  their  country  to  seek  a  more  congen- 
ial home  in  the  North. 

This  despotic  order  struck  my  husband,  as  it  did 
thousands  of  others,  with  the  utmost  consternation. 
Up  to  this  time,  we  had  endeavored,  by  keeping 
perfectly  quiet  and  attending  strictly  to  our  own 
affairs,  to  avoid  offending  the  sense  of  the  commu- 
nity in  which  we  lived.  But  now  the  time  had 
come  when  this  would  no  longer  suffice.  He  must 
either  go  into  the  army  and  fight  for  a  cause  in 
which  he  had  no  heart,  or  we  must  dispose  of  what 
little  property  we  had,  at  such  sacrifice  as  we 
might,  and  make  the  best  of  our  way  north  of  Ma- 
son and  Dixon's  line.  The  first  was  not  to  be 
thought  of,  and  the  second  was,  therefore,  the  only 
alternative  left  us.  And  thus  it  was  that  the 
Southern  people  began  to  reap  the  sad  fruits  of  the 
rebellion  into  which  they  had  so  madly  and  un- 
necessarily plunged. 

We  were,  at  this  time,  in  comfortable  circum- 
stances, though  far  from  being  rich,  and  we  could 
ill  afford  to  make  the  sacrifice  requisite  to  comply 


THE    LIFE    OF    A    BOOK    AGENT.  151 

with  this  cruel  order.  But  neither  time  nor  oppor- 
tunity was  afforded  for  remonstrance  or  hesitation. 
The  order  was  imperative,  and  close  upon  its  heels 
followed  a  most  rigorous  and  merciless  conscrip- 
tion, which  was  to  sweep  into  the  military  service 
of  the  Confederacy  every  man  who  had  not  com- 
plied with  the  other  dread  alternative  by  banish- 
ment. How  wretchedly  were  these  poor  people 
deluded  and  imposed  upon  by  their  designing  lead- 
ers !  Taking  up  arms  to  escape  from  the  pretend- 
ed tyranny  of  the  Government  of  the  United  States, 
they  now  found  themselves  subjects  of  a  despotism 
as  much  more  terrific  and  intolerable  than  that 
from  which  they  were  fleeing,  as  is  the  Govern- 
ment of  Turkey  more  absolute  than  the  constitu- 
tional monarchy  of  England.  But  these  reflections 
did  not  help  oar  situation  in  the  least. 

Accordingly,  my  husband  set  to  work  to  dispose 
of  what  property  we  had  on  hand,  preparatory  to 
our  emigration  from  the  land  of  our  nativity.  In 
this  matter  he  met  with  no  little  difficulty.  The 
very  fact  that  he  was  selling  off  his  property  to  go 
North,  at  once  stamped  him  as  a  "  disloyal  aboli- 
tionist ; "  and,  in  the  opinion  of  those  with  whom 
he  attempted  to  trade,  at  once  absolved  them  from 
all  obligations  of  honor  or  honesty  toward  him. 
More  than  this,  he  was  met  with  gibes  and  covert 
sneers  from  those  who  regarded  him  as  less  patri- 
otic than  themselves,  and  was,  on  several  occa- 
sions, met  with. positive  insult  by  parties  to  whom 
he  applied  to  make  sales  of  property.  He  soon 


152  THE   LIFE    OF   A    BOOK    AGENT. 

found  that  it  was  impossible  to  sell  except  at 
enormous  sacrifices ;  but  the  emergency  admitted 
of  no  discussion,  and,  accordingly,  he  disposed  of 
all  our  property  for  about  two-thirds  of  its  real 
value,  and  we  set  out  for  Memphis,  Tennessee,  as 
the  most  convenient  point  of  egress  from  the  now 
hated  Confederacy. 

During  this  time  I  had  received  several  letters 
from  my  brother.  He  was  enthusiastic  over  the 
cause  in  which  he  was  engaged,  and  at  all  times 
expressed  the  utmost  confidence  in  its  complete 
and  speedy  triumph.  Although  I  could  not  be- 
lieve that  such  would  be  the  case,  nor  wish  well  to 
an  enterprise  which,  in  my  heart  of  hearts,  I  con- 
demned, still  these  letters  were  a  source  of  con- 
stant gratification  to  me.  They  assured  me,  from 
time  to  time,  of  the  welfare  of  a  dearly  beloved 
brother,  and  my  heart  overflowed  with  gratitude 
to  that  God  who  had  thus  far  mercifully  and  kind- 
ly protected  and  preserved  him  amid  the  perils  of 
camp-life  and  the  dangers  of  the  battle-field.  He 
had  been  promoted  two  or  three  times,  and  at  the 
time  we  left  Atlanta  for  Memphis,  he»  occupied  the 
position  of  lieutenant-colonel  in  the  same  regiment 
in  which  he  had  gone  out  as  a  mere  subaltern. 
How  my  heart  throbbed  with  a  sister's  pride  as  I 
contemplated  those  evidences  of  appreciation  of 
his  merit,  let  those  who  have  thus  watched  the 
upward  and  onward  course  of  a  loved  brother 
judge.  But  to  return  to  ourselves  and  our  journey 
northward. 


THE   LIFE    OF   A    BOOK    AGENT.  153 

My  husband  had,  of  course,  taken  the  precau- 
tion to  procure  passes  for  us  from  the  military 
authorities  at  Atlanta ;  but,  notwithstanding  this, 
we  were  frequently  stopped  by  conscript  officers, 
ourselves  and  our  passes  closely  scrutinized,  our 
baggage  searched,  time  and  again,  for  articles 
contraband  of  war ;  and,  not  content  with  annoy- 
ing us  by  all  legal  means  in  their  power,  these 
petty  tyrants,  in  more  instances  than  one,  added 
insult  to  injury,  by  stigmatizing  my  husband  as  a 
traitor  and  a  coward  "  for  leaving  his  country  in 
her  hour  of  danger."  Poor  fools  !  They  could  not 
realize  that  we  were  fleeing  to  our  country  for  pro- 
tection from  the  persecutions,  annoyances  and 
dangers  of  an  illegal  and  unholy  despotism,  back- 
ed and  supported  by  as  fierce  arid  brutal  a  mob  as 
ever  thronged  the  streets  of  Paris. 

In  one  instance  I  thought  our  journey  was  to  be 
summarily  arrested.  Justly  incensed  at  the  over- 
bearing and  insolent  manner  of  a  petty  official 
who  had  stopped  us  to  overhaul  our  baggage,  and 
losing  his  accustomed  control  of  himself,  my 
husband  expressed  his  opinion  of  the  contemptible 
little  tyrant  before  us  in  language  more  forcible 
than  polite.  This  he  chose  to  construe  into  dis- 
loyalty to  the  "great  government"  of  which  he 
was  the  representative,  and  Eugene  was  at  once 
seized  by  a  file  of  soldiers  and  thrown  into  prison. 
They  allowed  me  no  communication  with  him, 
and,  for  a  short  time,  I  was  utterly  at  a  loss  what 
to  do ;  but  after  hesitating  a  time,  decided  to  go 


154  THE   LIFE    OF   A    BOOK    AGENT. 

to  General  Jackson,  who  was  in  command  there, 
and  endeavor  to  procure  his  release.  The  general 
listened  kindly  and  courteously  to  my  story,  and 
after  asking  me  a  few  questions,  gave  me  an  order 
for  his  immediate  release.  Armed  with  this  mis- 
sive I  flew  to  the  prison,  and  in  a  short  time  we 
were  again  on  our  journey.  I  shall  always  retain 
a  most  grateful  remembrance  of  General  Jackson, 
for  his  kindness  to  me  under  these  trying  circum- 
stances. 

In  due  time  we  arrived  at  Memphis,  which  was 
then  in  possession  of  the  Confederate  forces,  but 
which  was  invested  by  the  land  and  naval  forces 
of  the  Union  within  a  day  or  two  after  our  arrival. 
And  there  I  first  witnessed  the  actual  horrors  of 
war.  It  was  in  Memphis  that  I  first  heard  the 
sound  of  hostile  guns,  the  screaming  of  shot  and 
shell,  the  bursting  of  bombs,  and  all  the  horrid 
sounds  which  accompany  the  destruction  of  human 
life  on  the  field  of  battle.  Here,  too,  I  first  saw 
wounded  men,  and  my  brain  turned  with  horror  as 
I  beheld  the  mangled  and  bleeding  forms  of  those 
who  had  once  been  stout,  healthy,  and  vigorous 
men ;  and  as  their  piteous  moans  smote  upon  my 
ears  I  shuddered  in  every  fiber  of  my  frame,  and 
hastened  to  convey  myself  beyond  sight  and  hear- 
of  these  sickening  objects. 

Of  course,  under  the  present  state  of  affairs,  it 
was  impossible  for  us  to  get  any  further  North, 
and  we  remained  in  Memphis  until  the  surrender 
of  that  place  to  the  National  forces,  when  we  pro- 


THE   LIFE    OF    A    BOOK    AGENT.  155 

cured  passes  and  transportation  for  Cincinnati, 
where  we  arrived  without  further  incident.  And 
now,  for  the  first  time  since  the  promulgation  of 
the  order  before  referred  to,  we  could  feel  that  we 
were  free.  Once  more  I  could  lie  down  to  rest  at 
night  and  feel  assured  that  my  husband  would  not, 
before  morning,  be  torn  from  my  arms  by  merciless 
conscript  officers,  and  hurried  into  the  army  which 
was  using  all  its  energies  for  the  destruction  of  the 
Government  which  now  sheltered  us  beneath  its 
protecting  wings. 

Our  stay  in  Cincinnati  was  of  short  duration. 
We  were  among  strangers,  and  Eugene  did  not 
readily  find  any  avenue  of  business  open  to  him, 
and  we  could  not  live  without  doing  something. 
Having  heard  there  was  a  good  opening  at  London, 
Canada  "West,  Eugene  decided  that  the  best  thing 
we  could  do  was  to  go  there ;  and,  accordingly,  we 
went  there,  after  having  staid  in  Cincinnati  but 
about  three  weeks.  Our  journey  to  that  place  was 
unattended  with  any  incidents  worthy  of  record, 
or  in  any  degree  interesting  to  my  readers.  I  may 
remark,  however,  that  on  our  journey  through  Ohio 
I  was  forcibly  struck  with  the  vast  superiority  of 
the  country  over  anything  I  had  ever  seen  in  the 
South,  in  point  of  improvement  and  advancement 
of  every  kind.  Large,  well  cultivated  farms  bound- 
ed the  prospect  on  every  hand ;  while  the  comfort- 
able, and  often  elegant,  residences  of  their  owners 
gave  the  very  highest  evidence  of  thrift  and  pros- 
perity. Every  little  town,  too,  boasted  its  manu- 


156  THE    LIFE    OF    A    BOOK    AGENT. 

facturing  establishments ;  all  of  which  were  now 
stimulated  to  the  highest  degree  of  activity  by  the 
demand  for  supplies  of  all  kinds  for  the  use  of  the 
army.  I  was  immeasurably  astonished  at  the  lit- 
tle derangement  produced  here  by  the  war,  as 
compared  with  the  Southern  States.  Here  business 
of  all  kinds  was  flowing  in  its  accustomed  chan- 
nels, with,  perhaps,  greater'  briskness  than  before 
the  war ;  while  there,  everything  was  almost  at  a 
stand-still,  and  a  sense  of  uneasiness  and  distrust 
seemed  to  pervade  the  entire  community.  I  won- 
dered, then,  at  this  difference,  but  have  since 
ceased  to  feel  any  surprise  at  it. 

Upon  reaching  our  destination  my  husband  went 
at  once  into  business,  and,  for  a  time,  prospered 
finely.  Money  was  plenty,  and  as  Eugene  was  a 
good  financier,  we  were  soon  on  the  fair  road  to 
comfort,  if  not  to  wealth.  But  the  climate  was  so 
much  colder  than  we  had  been  accustomed  to,  that 
we,  were  far  from  being  contented.  Born  arid  rear- 
ed beneath  the  sunny  skies  of  the  South,  we  were 
illy  prepared  to  endure  the  rigors  of  a  Canada 
winter,  and  decided  to  return  to  the  United  States  ; 
and  we  were  strengthened  in  our  determination  by 
the  fact  that  Willie,  who  had  always  been  rather 
delicate,  was  attacked  with  a  severe  cough,  which 
we — whether  justly  or  otherwise,  I  know  not — at- 
tributed to  the  cold  and  damp  climate  of  that  lo- 
cality. Accordingly  my  husband,  in  the  fall  of 
1862,  disposed  of  what  property  we  had  there,  and 
we  returned  to  Cincinnati. 


THE    LIFE    OF    A    BOOK    AGENT.  157 

I  ought  to  remark  here  that,  while  in  Canada,  I 
received  letters  from  my  brother — the  first  intelli- 
gence I  had  had  from  him  directly  since  we  left 
Atlanta,  and  the  last  I  was  ever  destined  to  receive. 
Henceforth  the  fate  of  war  separated  us  as  com- 
pletely from  each  other,  and  as  entirely  destroyed 
our  communication  with  each  other,  as  was  after- 
ward done  by  his  death,  which  occurred  in  front  of 
Atlanta  during  the  campaign  of  1864.  At  this 
time,  however,  he  was  well,  and  was  still  on  the 
high  road  to  preferment.  He  had  been  several 
times  promoted  since  I  had  heard  from  him,  and 
was  now  gracing  the  position  of  a  brigadier-gen- 
eral. He  was  as  ardent  in  the  cause  of  Southern 
independence  as  ever,  and  was  still  just  as  confi- 
dent of  ultimate  success  as  when  he  marched  from 
Atlanta  in  the  comparatively  humble  position  of  a 
iirst  lieutenant ;  at  least  so  he  stated  in  his  letters. 
But  I  fancied  that  I  detected  in  his  language  a 
sort  of  undercurrent  of  despondency  which  induced 
me  to  think  that,  perhaps,  after  all,  he  was  not  as 
hopeful  as  he  tried  to  induce  me  to  believe. 

But,  be  that  as  it  might,  I  could  not  but  feel 
proud  of  the  record  of  gallantry  he  was  making 
for  himself.  How  much  better  pleased  I  should 
have  been  had  this  record  been  made  in  behalf  of 
the  Government,  instead  of  against  it,  may  easily 
be  imagined ;  but  still  we  are  constrained  to  ad- 
mire bravery  wherever  we  see  it,  even  though  it  be 
in  a  bad  cause.  How  natural,  then,  was  it  that  I 
should  be  proud  of  the  evidences  of  merit  displayed 


158  THE   LIFE   OF   A    BOOK    AGENT. 

by  my  only  brother,  and  should  rejoice  with  all 
my  heart  to  hear  of  these  successive  promotions. 
But,  alas !  how  short-lived  are  the  honors  and 
pleasures  of  this  life  !  Two  years  later  my  poor 
brother  was  buried  by  strange  hands,  in  an  un- 
known grave,  while  no  friend  or  sister  near  him, 
in  his  last  hour,  listened  to  his  dying  words,  or 
wiped  the  death-damps  from  his  pale  brow  as  he 
breathed  forth  his  parting  sigh. 


CHAPTER  X. 

I  HAVE  said  that  we  returned  to  Cincinnati  in  the 
fall  of  1862.  This  time  my  husband  was  more  for- 
tunate in  getting  into  business  than  when  we  were 
here  before  ;  an  opening  was  soon  found,  and  we 
took  rooms  at  the  Spencer  House.  My  health  was 
so  poor,  by  reason  of  the  excitement  that  we  had 
undergone  for  some  time,  and  I  was  so  much  worn 
out  by  the  constant  changes  and  journeyings  of  the 
last  year,  that  I  did  not  feel  equal  to  the  task  of 
undertaking  the  management  of  a  house;  and 
hence  our  determination  to  board  for  a  time,  until 
I  should  become  somewhat  improved  in  vigor. 

For  the  next  few  weeks  we  were  very  happy. 
My  husband  had  entirely  quit  drinking,  and  spent 
all  his  evenings  at  home  with  me ;  my  children 
were  in  good  health,  and  were  four  of  the  sweetest 
little  cherubs  to  be  found  anywhere  ;  they  gave  me 
very  little  care  or  trouble.  Save  some  anxiety  on 
my  brother's  account,  my  mind  knew  not  a  single 
burden.  The  children  had  forgotten  all  about  their 
mother,  and  did  not  seem  to  know  that  I  was  not 
their  maternal  parent,  and,  on  my  own  part,  I  loved 
them  as  if  they  had  been  my  own.  My  husband 
was  as  kind  and  considerate  to  me  as  it  was  possi- 
ble for  any  one  to  be  ;  my  every  want  was  supplied, 
and  I  almost  forgot  that  I  had  ever  been  unhappy. 

(159) 


160  THE    LIFE    OF   A    BOOK    AGENT. 

But,  alas !  my  happiness  was  not  to  last  long. 
A  blow  from  a  new  and  unexpected  quarter  was 
impending  over  me,  and  was  destined  soon  to  shat- 
ter into  atoms  forever  the  frail  fabric  of  bliss  which 
now  surrounded  me ;  to  cast  me  down  from  the 
pinnacle  of  happiness  upon  which  I  then  rested 
into  the  very  lowest  depths  of  an  abyss  of  misery 
and  wretchedness  so  profound  that  I  shudder  when 
I  think  of  it.  The  time  for  the  revelation  of  that 
fatal  secret  of  my  husband's,  to  which  allusion  has 
already  been  made,  was  fast  approaching,  and  yet 
I  suspected  it  not.  Like  Damocles  at  the  festival, 
when  the  sword  was  suspended  by  a  single  hair 
over  his  head,  I  reveled  in  the  enjoyment  of  the 
bliss  presented  to  me,  all  unsuspicious  of  danger, 
and  never  dreaming  that  my  happiness  could  be 
brought  to  an  end.  Then,  how  terrible  the  shock 
when  it  did  come,  and  with  what  crushing  force 
the  blow  fell  upon  my  suddenly-blighted  spirit,  let 
the  reader  imagine  ;  for  any  words  of  mine  are  ut- 
terly incapable  of  describing. 

Early  one  evening  I  was  alone  in  our  sitting- 
room.  The  children  were  all  in  bed,  and  my 
husband  had  not  yet  come  in,  though  I  was 
momentarily  expecting  him.  There  came  a  gentle 
tap  at  the  door,  and  one  of  the  boys  employed 
about  the  house  came  in  with  a  card,  which  he 
handed  me  with  a  polite  bow.  I  looked  at  the 
card — the  name  was  a  strange  one  to  me — it  was 
Mrs.  Martha  H.  Mason,  a  name  I  had  never  heard 
before,  nor  could  I  imagine  whom  she  could  be,  or 


THE    LIFE    OF    A    BOOK    AGENT.  161 

what  should  induce  her  to  call  upon  me.  To  my 
look  of  surprised  inquiry,  the  boy  answered  that 
the  lady  who  gave  him  the  card  wished  to  see  me 
in  the  parlor.  In  an  instant  I  was  struck  with  an 
undefinable  dread  of  some  approaching  evil,  but 
what  it  was  I  could  not  for  a  moment  imagine. 
Who  could  she  be,  and  why  had  she  come  to  seek 
me?  Her  summons  certainly  boded  me  no  good, 
and  I  felt  sure  some  deep  calamity  was  in  store  for 
me,  but  what  it  was  I  could  not  divine.  I  grew 
weak  and  felt  myself  turn  pale  as  these  thoughts, 
in  an  instant,  flashed  through  my  mind ;  but  I  re- 
tained sufficient  strength  and  control  of  myself  to 
tell  the  boy  I  would  be  down  in  a  few  moments, 
when  he  bowed  and  withdrew. 

After  he  was  gone  I  sunk  back  into  my  seat  and 
tried  to  collect  my  somewhat  scattered  thoughts. 
I  ran  over,  in  my  mind,  all  the  names  with  which 
I  was  acquainted  and  could  call  to  mind,  and  all 
I  remembered  to  have  heard  my  husband  mention, 
but  could  not  think  who  Martha  H.  Mason  was. 
What  would  I  not  have  given  at  that  moment 
for  my  husband's  presence  and  counsel,  and  at 
first  I  thought  of  waiting  until  he  came  in,  be- 
fore according  the  desired  interview.  But  no ; 
that  would  not  do.  Perhaps  it  was  something 
which  affected  his  honor,  in  which  case  it  were 
better  for  both  that  I  should  know  the  whole 
truth  before  seeing  him.  I  did  not  for  a  moment 
imagine  that  it  was  anything  which  would  prove 

Mm  to  be  guilty  of  actual  crime  against  the  laws 
11 


162  THE   LIFE    OF   A    BOOK    AGENT. 

of  God  and  man  ;  and  the  conclusion  at  which  my 
mind  finally  arrived  was,  that  it  was  Carrie's 
mother,  and  that  she  had  come  to  reclaim  her 
child.  But  let  the  cause  of  her  coming  be  what  it 
might,  or  whoever  she  might  be,  I  must  see  her 
and  know  the  worst. 

Accordingly,  after  making  some  slight  changes 
in  my  dress,  I  went  down  into  the  parlor.  There 
sat  a  lady  dressed  in  deep  mourning ;  and  the 
first  glance  at  her  pale,  sweet  face  told  me  that  I 
had  never  seen  her  before.  Her  age  was  not  far 
from  thirty,  as  near  as  I  could  judge  ;  and,  despite 
the  evident  marks  of  care  and  suffering  which 
her  countenance  displayed,  she  was  surpassingly 
beautiful.  She  rose  as  I  entered  the  parlor  and 
timidly  approached  me.  In  a  low,  and  finely- 
modulated  voice,  she  asked  : 

"  Are  you  Mrs.  Eugene  Giles  ?  " 

u  I  am,"  I  answered.  "  What  do  you  wish  with 
me?" 

"  Are  you  Mr.  Giles'  first  wife  ;  or  was  he  mar- 
ried before  ? " 

"I  am  his  second  wife.  His  first  wife  died 
some  eight  years  or  more  since.  We  were  mar- 
ried in  about  seven  months  from  the  time  of  her 
death." 

"  Had  he  any  children  by  his  first  wife  ?  " 

"He  had  three;  all  boys.  But  may  I  inquire 
why  you  ask  all  these  questions  ?" 

"  I  will  tell  you  soon.  May  I  ask  the  names  of 
these  boys  ? " 


THE    LIFE    OF   A    BOOK    AGENT.  163 

"  The  eldest  one's  name  is  Willie — he  is  fourteen 
years  old.  The  second  is  Frankie,  aged  eleven 
years ;  and  the  youngest  is  Eddie,  aged  about 
nine.  Do  you  know  Mr.  Giles,  or  why  are  you  so 
particular  in  your  inquiries  about  him  and  his 
family  ? " 

At  this  question  her  entire  manner  changed,  and 
she  answered  almost  fiercely : 

"  Do  I  know  him  ?  Yes  ;  far  better  than  you  do. 
Look  at  this !  and  she  handed  me  an  ambrotype- 
case.  I  opened  it  and  found  it  to  contain  two 
likenesses — a  young  man  and  young  woman.  In 
an  instant  I  recognized  them:  the  young  man  was 
my  husband,  and  the  young  woman  was  the  lady 
before  me.  Who  was  she,  and  what  could  it  all 
mean  ?  As  I  asked  her  these  questions  she  handed 
me  a  written  paper  and  bade  me  read  it.  My 
husband  had  not  kept  up  the  lessons  he  began 
with  me,  and  it  was  with  some  difficulty  that  I 
could  read  it ;  but  I  made  out  that  it  was  a  certifi- 
cate of  the  marriage  of  Eugene  Giles  Mason  and 
Martha  Hart.  As  the  fearful  import  of  this  docu- 
ment thrilled  through  my  brain,  I  was  nearly  wild 
with  anguish.  Could  it  be  that  this  woman  was 
his  lawful  wife,  the  mother  of  his  children  ?  Oh  ! 
no !  Eugene  could  not  be  such  a  villain.  Perhaps 
she  was  his  wife's  sister;  and  there  was  so  much 
resemblance  between  them  that  I  had  mistaken 
the  likeness  for  hers.  I  turned  to  her  to  ask 
an  explanation.  She  was  weeping  silently  but 
bitterly. 


164  THE    LIFE    OF   A    BOOK    AGENT. 

"  Who  are  you?"  said  I,  "  and  what  is  all  this  to 
me  ?  What  have  I,  the  wife  of  Eugene  Giles,  to 
do  with  the  marriage  of  Eugene  Mason  and  Martha 
Hart?" 

"  The  man  who  now  calls  himself  Eugene  Giles," 
said  she,  speaking  slowly  and  bitterly,  "  is  no 
other  than  Eugene  Giles  Mason,  and  I  am  Martha 
Mason,  his  lawful  wife,  the  mother  of  the  three 
boys  whose  names  you  have  just  given  me.  Is  this 
nothing  to  you?  " 

Had  a  two-edged  sword  at  that  moment  pierced 
my  heart,  I  could  not  have  suffered  half  the  agony 
I  endured  as  she  pronounced  these  fatal  words. 

"This  can  not,  can  not  be!"  I  cried  in  my 
anguish.  u  Eugene  would  never  be  so  base.  Beside, 
lie  told  me  his  wife  was  dead.  Oh  !  take  back 
those  cruel  words!" 

"  It  is  all  true  that  I  have  told  you,"  said  she. 
UI  have  other  proofs  of  the  truth  of  my  state- 
ments. Will  you  look  at  them  ? " 

Alas  !  there  was  no  need.  I  felt  that  her  words 
were  true,  and  that  Eugene  was  not  my  husband ; 
and  the  thuoght  of  my  situation,  in  an  instant, 
flashed  upon  me. 

"If  all  you  have  been  telling  me  is  true — if 
Eugene  is  not  my  husband — if  you  are  his  wife, 
my  God,  what  am  I  ? "  I  cried  out,  and  sunk  to  the 
floor. 

I  had  not  fainted,  for  I  could  hear  and  see  every- 
thing that  was  said  or  done  in  the  room,  and  my 
mind  seemed  imbued  with  unnatural  activity,  but 


THE    LIFE    OF    A    BOOK    AGENT.  165 

the  suddenness  and  violence  of  the  shock  had  de- 
prived me  of  all  physical  vitality,  and  I  was 
powerless  to  rise  from  the  floor.  I  could  not  move 
or  speak.  The  last  words  I  had  uttered  were  ring- 
ing in  my  brain.  If  she  was  his  wife,  what  was  I  ? 
I  was  only  his  mistress,  and  had  been  such  for 
these  many  long  years.  Could  it  be  so?  Was  it 
possible  that  my  husband's  real  name  was  Mason, 
and  that  he  was  the  base  and  unprincipled  villain 
that  her  words  would  indicate  ?  Oh  !  no  ;  it  could 
not  be.  Eugene  would  never,  never,  never  have 
wronged  me  thus.  There  must  be  some  terrible 
mistake  here.  His  first  wife  was  surely  dead,  and 
our  marriage  was  lawful.  This  woman  was  some 
base  adventuress  who  had,  by  some  means, 
possessed  herself  of  his  marriage  certificate,  and 
was  now  using  it  for  some  purpose  of  her  own.  Or, 
more  likely,  it  was  some  one  else's  marriage  cer- 
tificate, which  she  was  trying  to  fasten  upon  my 
husband.  But,  then,  those  likenesses — what  could 
they  mean  ?  But  I  could  not,  would  not  believe 
Eugene  was  so  base.  Were  he  here,  he  could  ex- 
plain all.* 

While  these  thoughts  ran  riot  through  my  brain, 
I  lay  helpless  and  motionless  on  the  floor,  and  the 
woman  who  had  been  the  cause  of  all  this  misery, 
sat  staring  at  me  with  her  great,  black  eyes,  until 
they  seemed  to  burn  and  sear  into  my  brain.  I 
could  not  remove  my  eyes  from  her  face,  nor  could 
I  speak.  I  had  never  been  so  completely  pros- 
trated and  unnerved  as  I  was  by  this  terrible 


166  THE   LIFE    OF    A    BOOK    AGENT. 

revelation,  and  did  not  care  whether  I  ever  moved 
or  spoke  again.  At  length  she  arose  and  came  to 
'my  side.  She  knelt  down  by  me  and  spoke  sub- 
stantially as  follows,  while  she  rested  her  hand 
upon  my  head : 

"  Poor  child  ;  I  do  not  blame  you  in  the  least  for 
this  terrible  affair.  No;  you  are  innocent,  and 
have  been  the  victim  of  the  most  grievous  wrong, 
as  well  as  myself.  My  husband  left  me  when  I 
was  confined  with  my  fifth  child,  little  Eddie.  He 
stole  my  babe,  only  a  week  old,  and  my  two 
little  boys,  and  left  me  with  two  little  girls.  He 
has  now  been  gone  for  more  than  eight  years, 
and,  during  all  that  long  and  weary  time,  I  have 
been  traveling  in  search  of  him.  I  have  roamed 
from  place  to  place,  throughout  the  whole  of  the 
United  States,  with  no  other  object  but  to  find  my 
darling  babes.  Xo  doubt  the  heartless  monster 
thought  I  was  dead  when  he  married  you.  He 
naturally  thought  that  the  loss  of  my  children, 
in  my  enfeebled  condition,  would  be  too  much 
•for  me,  and  that  the  shock  would  kill  me.  But, 
thank  God,  I  have  disappointed  him.  I  have  been 
wonderfully  spared  and  preserved,  and  high 
heaven  has  kindly  answered  my  prayer  and  guided 
me  to  him — and  once  more  I  shall  possess  my 
darling  children,  once  more  I  press  them  to 
the  lonely  heart  which  for  years  has  mourned 
and  sighed  for  them.  But  I  pity  rather  than 
blame  you.  You  have  been  most  grievously 
wronged  as  well  as  myself,  and  I  would  not  harm 


THE    LIFE    OF   A   BOOK    AGENT.  167 

a  hair  of  you  head  :  all  I  ask  is  the  possession  of 
my  babes,  and  vengeance  upon  the  heartless 
wretch  who  has  deceived  and  betrayed  us  both. 
Where  are  rny  precious  darlings  ?  I  long  to  see 
them  and  clasp  them  to  my  heart  once  more." 

She  pronounced  these  last  words  with  a  vehe- 
mence and  energy  which  indicated  the  depth  of 
her  feeling  upon  this  subject.  I  strove  to  reply 
to  her  eager  question,  but  my  tongue  refused  to 
obey  the  mandates  of  my  will,  and  I  remained 
silent.  She  gazed  at  me  a  moment,  then  sprung  to 
her  feet  and  rung  the  bell  with  the  utmost  violence, 
and  then  turned  to  raise  me  and  place  me  on  the 
sofa.  She  had  barely  accomplished  her  task  when 
the  proprietor  of  the  house  made  his  appearance, 
and,  in  an  eager  and  excited  manner,  she  de- 
manded to  be  shown  to  Mr.  Giles'  room.  Probably 
he  did  not  observe  me  lying  on  the  sofa,  or  he 
would  have  known  there  was  something  wrong ; 
but  he  proceeded  at  once  to  comply  with  her  de- 
mand, and  they  left  the  room. 

I  strove  to  rise  and  follow  them,  but  I  was  com- 
pletely paralyzed  by  the  horrid  events  of  the  last 
hour,  and  my  limbs  totally  refused  to  obey  my  vo- 
lition. I  then  tried  to  speak,  to  call  out  and  attract 
their  attention,  but  was  powerless  to  even  move 
my  tongue.  I  would  have  given  anything  to  have 
witnessed  the  meeting  between  her  and  Giles,  and 
to  have  heard  him  defend  himself  against  her  ac- 
cusation, for  I  still  half  believed  there  was  some 
terrible  misunderstanding,  and  that  he  could  ex- 


168  THE   LIFE    OF    A    BOOK    AGENT. 

plain  it  all  satisfactorily.  Although  I  was  satisfied 
she  had  once  been  his  wife,  my  faith  in  him  was  so 
strong  that  I  believed  he  would  be  able  to  explain 
away  the  horrible  tale  she  had  unfolded  to  me. 
And  now,  for  the  first  time,  occurred  to  me  the 
thought  that  they  might  have  been  divorced,  and 
Engene  might  still  be  innocent  of  any  wrong.  But> 
then,  why  should  he  have  told  me  she  was  dead  ? 

These  thoughts  passed  through  my  brain,  and 
then  came  the  reflection  that  it  mattered  very  little 
to  me  whether  her  story  was  true  or  false.  I  felt 
that  I  should  never  recover  from  the  horrible  paral- 
ysis into  which  these  astounding  revelations  had 
thrown  me.  I  knew  that,  in  the  sight  of  God,  I 
was  innocent  of  any  wrong ;  and  if  I  was  to  die, 
what  matter  whether  my  association  with  Giles 
was  legal  or  not  ?  Immorality,  on  my  part,  I  knew 
there  was  none ;  and  as  long  as  my  soul  was  pure 
and  uncontaminated,  what  mattered  it  that  I  h  id 
sustained  toward  him  a  station  not  sanctioned  by 
the  laws  of  God  or  man  ?  I  knew  that  I  was  inno- 
cent in  the  sight  of  high  heaven,  and  I  could  well 
afford  that  the  scorn  of  those  who  thought  them- 
selves better  than  I  should  be  visited  upon  my 
memory  after  my  spirit  had  taken  its  everlasting 
flight  to  the  bosom  of  my  Heavenly  Maker. 

For  a  long  time  I  lay  alone  in  the  room.  No 
one  came,  and  I  was  utterly  unable  to  help  myself 
in  any  way,  or  to  give  any  alarm  or  make  my 
wants  known.  It  seemed  to  me  an  age — I  suppose 
it  was  about  half  an  hour,  but  it  seemed  much 


THE    LIFE    OF    A    BOOK    AGENT. 

longer — before  any  one  made  their  appearance,  and 
then  Giles  came  into  the  room.  He  came  and  knelt 
by  my  side,  clasped  me  in  his  arms,  and  called  me 
all  the  pet  names  which  had  been  so  dear  to  me  in 
our  happier  days,  and  implored  me  to  forgive  him  ;, 
told  me  that  he  loved  me  better  than  his  owrt  life, 
and  could  not  give  me  up,  and  begged  me  to  speak 
to  him  again.  I  tried  to  speak,  but  the  terrible 
paralysis  still  held  my  tongue,  and  I  was  unable 
to  utter  a  word.  Meanwhile  he  continued  his 
demonstrations  of  affection,  and  the  most  passion- 
ate entreaties  for  just  one  word  to  assure  him  of 
forgiveness.  He  did  not  deny  that  he  had  wronged 
me  beyond  redress,  or  that  the  woman  was  his  law- 
ful wife  ;  he  did  not  dispute  the  truth  of  her  horri- 
ble revelation;  but  he  urged  his  unbounded  and 
uncontrollable  love  for  me  in  extenuation  of  his 
folly  and  his  guilt.  And  all  this  time  I  lay  unable 
to  move  or  speak. 

Eugene  finally  observed  my  situation,  and  start- 
ing suddenly  to  his  feet,  he  hastily  left  the  room. 
He  was  gone  but  a  few  moments  when  he  came  ia 
as  hastily  as  he  had  gone  out,  accompanied  by  a 
physician,  whose  name  was  Wood.  He  brought 
the  doctor  to  my  side,  and,  in  the  most  frantic  man- 
ner, implored  him  to  save  me  if  within  his  power. 

The  doctor  took  hoi  i  of  my  arm,  felt  my  pulse, 
placed  his  hand  upon  my  forehead  for  a  moment, 
then  put  his  ear  down  to  my  heartbeat,  and,  with- 
out speaking  a  word,  took  a  lancet  from  his 
pocket  and  stuck  it  into  my  arm.  The  blood  did 


170  THE   LIFE   OF   A    BOOK    AGENT. 

not  start  readily,  and  he  held  hartshorn  to  my  nos- 
trils for  a  short  time,  which  had  the  effect  of  start- 
ing the  crimson  current  in  a  steady,  vigorous  stream. 
The  flow  of  blood  loosened  my  paralyzed  tongue, 
and,  in  a  low  voice  (for  my  strength  was  all  gone), 
I  asked  the  doctor  to  leave  the  room.  I  wanted  to 
talk  with  Eugene,  and  hear  from  his  own  lips  the 
confirmation  or  denial  of  the  awful  revelation  which 
had  had  such  a  terrible  effect  on  me.  But  the  man 
of  physic  replied  that  my  situation  was  extremely 
critical,  that  my  life  was  in  serious  danger,  and 
that  he  could  not  leave  until  I  was  better.  ,  How- 
ever, he  asked  no  questions  as  to  the  cause  of  my 
sudden  and  violent  illness.  Doubtless  his  science 
revealed  to  him  the  cause ;  but  he  said  nothing  in 
relation  to  his  suspicions,  whatever  they  may  have 
been,  but  steadily  and  carefully  attended  to  his 
business  until  my  arm  was  bandaged,  when  he 
took  his  leave — having  first  left  some  remedies  to 
calm  my  terrible  nervous  excitement  and  reinvig- 
orate  rny  feeble  frame. 

As  soon  as  we  were  once  more  alone,  Eugene,  at 
my  request,  came  and  sat  down  by  my  side. 

"Eugene,"  said  I,  "  as  you  value  your  soul  and 
your  eternal  happiness,  tell  me  the  whole  truth 
relative  to  this  sad,  sad  affair.  Is  this  woman  your 
wife  ? " 

"  Yes,  Minnie,"  he  replied,  "  she  is  my  wife — the 
mother  of  my  three  boys." 

How  the  light  of  hope  went  out  of  my  bosom  as 
I  listened  to  this  confession,  uttered  in  a  low  tone 


THE    LIFE    OF    A    BOOK    AGENT.  171 

of  voice,  and  with  half-averted  head.  Up  to  this 
time  I  had  hoped,  notwithstanding  the  solemn  as- 
severations of  the  woman,  that  he  would  deny  it, 
and  that  I  would  be  spared  the  shame  and  mortifi- 
cation which  were  now  my  lot.  My  faith  in  him 
had  whispered  that  either  her  tale  was  a  fabrica- 
tion, or  she  was  the  victim  of  some  dreadful  hallu- 
cination. But  when  he  answered  me  as  he  did,  this 
last  lingering  ray  of  hope  faded  out,  and,  with  a 
deep  groan,  I  sunk  back  upon  my  pillow,  from 
which,  in  my  excitement,  I  had  half  risen  to  pro- 
pound my  eager  inquiry. 

"Minnie,  I  love  you  enough  to  give  up  everything 
for  you.  I  never  knew  happiness  until  I  met  you, 
and  if  you  leave  me  I  can  never  know  happiness 
again.  I  can  be  happy  with  you,  but  with  that 
woman,  never." 

"  Where  is  she  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  She  is  up  in  our  room  with  the  children.  They 
were  afraid  of  her,  and  she  was  trying  to  concili- 
ate them  by  telling  them  she  was  their  mother, 
and  endeavoring  to  persuade  them  to  go  and  live 
with  her.  But  they  would  riot  believe  her.  They 
told  her  their  'ma  was  down  in  the  parlor — that 
she  had  gone  there  to  see  a  lady  who  called  for 
her.  But  she  will  succeed  in  convincing  them — 
they  will  go  with  her,  and  she  may  havB  them  if 
she  will  only  go  away  and  let  us  alone." 

"Eugene,  you  must  not  talk  so,"  I  replied  as 
firmly  as  I  could,  although  it  cost  me  a  terrible 
effort,  "  we  were  happy  in  each  other's  society  be- 


172  THE   LIFE   OF   A    BOOK    AGENT. 

cause  we  supposed  we  were  innocent,  and  without 
innocence  there  can  be  no  real  happiness.  Let  us 
not,  then,  forever  destroy  our  happiness  and  stain 
our  souls  with  the  guilt  of  doing  wrong  with  our 
eyes  open." 

But  all  I  could  say  was  of  no  avail.  He  still 
insisted  that  he  could  not  and  would  not  part  with 
me;  and,  at  length,  worn  out  with  conflicting 
emotions,  and  with  the  terrible  excitement  of  the 
scenes  through  which  I  had  passed,  I  ceased  to 
contend  any  longer.  He  continued  to  talk  for  some 
time  after  I  had  become  silent,  when  thinking,  per- 
haps, that  I  needed  rest,  he,  too,  subsided  into 
silence  and  allowed  me  to  indulge  my  own  sad 
thoughts. 

And  sad  arid  gloomy  indeed  they  were.  Not- 
withstanding the  awful  strain  which  had  just  been 
imposed  upon  my  mental  faculties,  my  mind  was 
comparatively  clear,  and  my  first  thought  was  for 
Carrie.  What  would  become  of  her?  For  the 
reader  will  readily  conceive  that,  though  I  had 
ceased  to  contend  with  Eugene  about  the  matter, 
I  had  no  idea  of  remaining  with  him  after  the 
dreadful  expose  that  had  taken  place.  I  only 
ceased  to  contend  with  him  because  it  was  useless 
to  do  so,  and  because  he  refused  to  be  convinced 
of  the  sin  that  lay  in  the  course  he  advocated. 
What,  then,  would  become  of  Carrie?  Should  I 
take  her  with  me,  or  leave  her  to  the  tender  mercies 
of  that  dreadful  woman?  This,  it  seemed  to  me,  I 
could  not  do.  It  is  true  she  was  no  relation  to 


THE   LIFE    OF    A    BOOK    AGENT.  173 

me,  but  she  was  a  lovely  child,  and  I  loved  her 
almost  as  my  own.  Ah!  yes,  my  own.  How  I 
thanked  the  God  of  high  Heaven,  then,  that  he  had 
seen  tit  to  take  my  own  little  girl  to  himself  in 
the  bright  days  of  infancy,  before  her  pure  spirit 
had  been  blighted  and  sullied  by  contact  with  this 
sinful  world.  Let  not  the  reader  shudder,  or  think 
me  inhuman,  that  this  thought  found  a  lodgment 
in  my  breast.  Nothing  but  my  overwhelming  love 
for  my  offspring  gave  birth  to  the  idea.  What 
would  have  been  her  fate  had  she  lived  to  adult 
age? 

Of  illegitimate  birth — born  to  an  heritage  of 
shame  and  disgrace — a  mark  for  the  finger  of  scorn 
and  contumely — who  can  ever  guess  to  what  depths 
of  sin,  and  degradation,  and  shame,  the  dark  cloud 
which  would  have  rested  upon  her  during  the 
whole  of  her  life  might  have  driven  her !  Yes,  it 
was  far  better  for  her  as  it  was ;  and  in  pure  sin- 
gleness of  heart,  and  actuated  by  naught  but  the 
most  exalted  love  for  her,  I  blessed  God  that  she 
had  died  upon  the  very  threshold  of  life. 

Then  my  thoughts  turned  to  my  own  future, 
and,  look  which  way  I  would,  nothing  was  pre- 
sented but  black  misery,  shame  and  despair. 
Who  and  what  was  I?  The  mistress  of  a  married 
man ;  and  for  long  years  I  had  been  living  in  a 
state  of  adultery  with  him.  True,  I  was  innocent 
of  any  intentional  wrong,  but,  nevertheless,  the 
black  and  damning  fact  stared  me  in  the  face,  and 
would  not  down  at  my  bidding.  And  what  had  I 


174  THE   LIFE    OF    A    BOOK    AGENT. 

to  hope  or  anticipate  ?  Alone,  aye,  doubly  alone 
in  the  wide  world — my  brother  Frank,  my  only 
living  relative,  far  away  and,  perhaps,  wounded 
or  dying  on  some  battle-field,  perhaps  already 
dead — no  one  to  care  or  provide  for  me,  and  utter- 
ly unfitted  by  my  education  to  earn  a  livelihood — 
with  the  dark  stain  of  the  past  resting  upon  me 
and  clouding  my  fair  name — what  wonder  that  I 
groaned  in  spirit,  and  even  questioned  the  good- 
ness of  the  Almighty  in  his  dispensations  toward 
me?  What  wonder  that  my  bowed  and  crushed 
heart  cried  out  in  bitterest  anguish,  "  My  burden 
is  greater  than  I  can  bear  ?  Oh !  Thou  Eternal 
God,  what  have  I  done  that  I  should  be  so  much 
afflicted  above  all  the  children  of  men  ?  Why  is 
my  pathway  strewn  only  with  thorns,  and  why 
dost  Thou  utterly  withdraw  thy  face  from  me  ? " 
And  then,  anon,  my  spirit  became  more  calm, 
and  I  fervently  prayed  for  strength  and  grace  to 
conquer  and  overcome  all  ills  that  beset  me.  Ah  ! 
how  I  shudder  even  to  this  day  as  memory  recalls 
the  events  of  that  terrible  night. 

At  length  I  became  more  calm,  arid  with  return- 
ing strength  came  the  desire  to  go  to  some  other 
room,  where  I  would  be  less  exposed  to  observa- 
tion than  in  the  public  parlor  of  the  hotel.  Ac- 
cordingly Eugene  called  for  another  room,  and 
obtained  the  key  of  one  adjoining  the  parlor,  and 
with  his  assistance  I  got  into  it  and  lay  down  on 
the  bed.  He  urged  me  to  undress,  but  I  would 
not,  for  I  had  formed  the  resolution  to  leave  the 


THE    LIFE    OF    A    BOOK    AGENT.  175 

house  that  very  night,  and  in  my  feeble  condition 
I  did  not  want  the  trouble  of  dressing.  I  had  also 
determined  to  take  Carrie  with  me,  and,  accord- 
ing^, as  soon  as  I  was  comfortably  disposed  on 
the  bed,  I  asked  him  to  bring  her  to  me.  He  went 
to  our  room  and  brought  her,  and  informed  me 
that  the  other  children  were  all  asleep,  and  their 
mother  lying  down  with  them.  They  had  evident- 
ly become  reconciled  to  her,  and  the  fact  of  their 
making  up  with  her  so  quickly  caused  me  a  secret 
pang,  though  I  knew  it  was  really  nothing  to  me, 
and  that  their  happiness  would  be  promoted  there- 
by. I  then  asked  Eugene  to  go  and  bring  my 
trunks,  and  all  mine  and  Carrie's  things,  into  this 
room.  I  think  this  request  aroused  some  suspicion 
in  his  bosom,  for  he  hesitated  a  little,  and  asked 
me  what  I  meant,  and  what  I  was  going  to  do; 
but  if  so,  I  quieted  his  apprehensions  by  telling 
him,  in  an  indifferent  manner  that  I  did  not  want 
them  in  the  room  with  that  woman,  and  that  I 
only  wanted  them  where  I  could  get  at  them  con- 
veniently without  meeting  her. 

Accordingly  he  ordered  the  trunks  brought 
down,  and  closely  following  them  came  "  that 
woman."  Doubtless  she  thought  we  were  intending 
to  slip  away  from  her,  and  this  idea  aroused  the 
virago  in  her  bosom. 

"  What  are  you  about  ? "  said  she.  "  You  need 
not  think  to  give  me  the  slip  now.  I  have  spent 
too  much  time  hunting  you,  and  now  that  I  have 


176  THE   LIFE    OF    A    BOOK    AGENT. 

got  hold  of  you,  I  intend  to  keep  you.  I  am  not 
done  with  you  yet." 

"I  have  no  idea  of  slipping  away  from  you,"  re- 
plied Eugene.  "But  this  lady  is  very  sick,  and 
wants  her  things  in  her  own  room.  And,  beside, 
she  is  not  in  a  condition  to  be  agitated  by  such 
violence  just  now." 

"  You  are  very  careful  of  her  just  now ;  would  it 
not  be  just  as  well  for  you  to  have  some  care  of 
me?" 

"  But  I  assure  you  she  is  indeed  very  ill.  You 
can  see  for  yourself." 

"  If  she  is  so  very  ill,  you  can  get  some  one  to 
stay  with  her.  But,  as  for  yourself,  you  had  better 
come  up  stairs  with  your  wife." 

How  that  last  word  grated  on  my  ear,  empha- 
sized as  she  emphasized  it.  And  yet  it  was  true. 
She  was  his  wife,  and  I  was  only  his  mistress. 
His  place  was  with  her  and  not  with  me,  and  I 
wanted  him  to  go.  And,  aside  from  the  question 
of  right  and  wrong,  I  had  other  reasons  for  wishing 
him  to  leave  me  alone  and  go  to  her  room  with  her. 
In  the  first  place,  his  absence  was  necessary  in 
order  that  I  might  carry  out  the  plan  I  had  formed 
of  taking  my  departure  from  the  house  that  very 
night.  Beside,  I  knew  that  a  prolongation  of  this 
interview  would  only  result  in  exciting  me  to  such 
a  degree  as  to  wholly  prostrate  me  again,  and  the 
little  strength  I  had  was  barely  sufficient  for  my 
contemplated  flight.  Accordingly  I  seconded  her 
demand  with  my  entreaties,  and  urged  him  for  the 


THE   LIFE    OF    A   BOOK    AGENT.  177 

sake  of  peace,  and  for  the  sake  of  my  health,  if  not 
for  the  sake  of  my  life,  to  go  with  her.  After 
some  urging  he  went  and  brought  me  some 
matches,  and  under  pretense  of  placing  them  with- 
in my  reach,  came  to  the  bedside,  snatched  a  kiss 
before  I  knew  what  he  intended,  and  whispering 
me  that  he  would  be  back  as  soon  as  she  went  to 
sleep,  left  the  room.  She  was  waiting  for  him 
just  outside  the  door,  and  I  heard  them  ascend  the 
stairs  together. 

Then  I  knew  it  was  time  for  me  to  act,  for  I  was 
certain  he  would  be  back  before  long,  and  any 
delay  might  be  fatal  to  my  plans.  As  soon  as  the 
echo  of  their  footsteps,  therefore,  had  died  away  at 
the  head  of  the  stairs  I  rung  the  bell,  and  when 
the  messenger  came,  ordered  him  to  send  the  pro- 
prietor of  the  hotel  to  me.  The  landlord  came  in* 
a  few  minutes,  and  I  briefly  told  him  the  whole 
shameful  story — how  I  married  Giles  (or  Mason) 
long  years  ago,  and  had  lived  with  him  ever  since, 
believing  him  to  be  my  lawful  husband ;  how  this 
woman  had  come  and  claimed  to  be  his  lawful 
wife ;  and  how  he  had  admitted  the  justice  and 
correctness  of  her  claim,  and  that  she  was  really 
and  truly  his  wife ;  and  of  my  resolution  to  leave 
at  once,  and  then  begged  his  assistance  in  my  en- 
deavor. I  told  him  I  could  not  stay  to  see  them 
again,  and  asked  him  to  get  a  carriage  and  send 
me  away  at  once.  He  used  all  his  persuasive 
powers  to  induce  me  to  stay  where  I  was  until  I 

was  better — told  me   over  and  over  again  that  it 
12 


178  THE   LIFE   OF    A   BOOK    AGENT. 

would  kill  me  if  I  went  out  that  night — but  it 
was  all  in  vain.  Indeed,  the  suggestion  of  death 
was  the  very  poorest  argument  he  could  have  used, 
for  so  intensely  bitter  had  been  my  lot  in  life 
thus  far  that  I  would  as  soon  have  died  as  not. 

When  he  found  I  was  unalterably  resolved  to 
go  that  night,  he  professed  his  readiness  to  help 
me,  and  asked  me  where  I  intended  to  go.  I  had 
not  selected  any  place,  and,  hesitating  a  moment, 
replied  that  it  did  not  matter  where  I  went — any- 
where in  the  country — until  I  was  better,  and 
could  seek  a  home  in  some  other  part  of  the 
country.  He  then  informed  me  that  he  had  a 
sister  living  on  a  farm  but  six  miles  from  the  city, 
who  he  was  sure  would  make  me  welcome  and 
treat  me  kindly,  and  would  give  me  such  care  as 
my  situation  demanded.  He  assured  me  that  I 
would  be  comfortably  situated,  and  offered  to  get 
a  carriage  and  take  me  there  himself.  I  thanked 
him  from  the  bottom  of  my  heart,  for  his  kind  and 
generous  offer,  and  he  went  out  to  call  a  carriage. 

But  a  few  minutes  elapsed  since  his  departure, 
and  there  was  a  gentle  tap  at  my  door.  A  moment 
more  and  it  was  opened,  and  the  landlord's  wife 
came  in.  She  was  about  forty  years  of  age,  of 
gentle  and  ladylike  manners  and  disposition, 
while  goodness  and  kindness  beamed  from  every 
lineament  of  her  face,  and  furnished  an  unerring 
index  to  the  noble  qualities  of  her  heart.  She 
approached  my  bedside,  laid  her  hand  gently  and 


THE    LIFE   OF   A    BOOK    AGENT.  179 

caressingly  upon  my  forehead,  and,  with  a  world  of 
kindness  in  her  tone,  said : 

"My  husband  tells  me  you  are  going  away 
to-night.  Is  there  anything  I  can  do  to  assist 
you  ? " 

"  Oh !  Mrs.  ,"  replied  I,  quite  overcome  with 

kindness,  "  God  will  reward  you  for  your  kindness 
to  a  poor,  unfortunate  stranger — I  never  can." 

"There,  my  dear  child,"  said  she  gently,  "  don't 
say  anything  about  that,  but  just  tell  me  what  I 
can  do  for  you.  I  know  all  about  it,  and  I  were 
less  than  human  to  withhold  offers  of  assistance 
under  such  circumstances." 

"  You  may  dress  Carrie,  if  you  please ;  and 
should  any  reverse  ever  befall  you,  or  you  be  in 
need  of  assistance,  may  God  deal  mercifully  with 
you,  even  as  you  and  your  husband  do  with  me  at 
this  time." 

She  made  no  reply ;  but  as  she  dressed  the 
little  girl,  I  could  see,  by  the  quivering  lip  and 
moistened  eye,  that  I  had  a  friend  indeed  in  her — 
one  upon  whom  I  might  rely  with  the  most  implicit 
confidence  under  all  circumstances. 

By  the  time  Carrie  was  dressed,  and  I  had, 
with  the  assistance  of  my  kind  friend,  put  on  my 
wrappings,  her  husband  came  in  to  tell  me  that 
the  carriage  was  ready ;  and  as  he  saw  the  evident 
indications  of  emotion,  he  began  to  rally  us  on  our 
tenderheartedness  ;  but,  while  he  did  so,  there  was 
a  tremor  in  his  voice  and  a  moistness  in  his  eye, 
which  told  me  that  he,  too,  had  a  heart  to  feel  for 


180  THE   LIFE   OF   A   BOOK   AGENT. 

the  sorrows  of  others,  and  that  contact  with  the 
world  had  not  deadened  all  the  finer  sensibilities 
of  his  nature: 

His    wife    took    Carrie   in   her    arms,  I  leaned 

upon    Mr.   's    arm,    and  we  proceeded  to  the 

carriage.  When  I  had  been  assisted  in,  she 
kissed  Carrie  and  placed  her  by  my  side,  and 
then  holding  my  hand  in  hers,  said,  in  a  tremu- 
lous voice  : 

"If  you  want  any  assistance,  at  any  time,  do 
not  hesitate  to  come  to  me,  and  be  assured  that 
your  petition  will  never  be  in  vain." 

I  tried  to  reply,  but  could  not.  My  emotions, 
at  such  unexpected  kindness,  quite  overcame  me ; 
and,  after  trying  in  vain  to  give  utterance  to  the 
deep  thankfulness  of  my  heart,  I  leaned  back  in 
the  carriage  and  burst  into  tears.  Her  husband 
without  a  word,  sprang  into  the  carriage  beside  me 
and  we  rolled  away  toward  the  house  of  his  sister, 
where  we  arrived  about  two  o'clock  in  the  morn-' 
ing.  Of  course  the  family  were  all  asleep  at  the 
time,  but  he  called  his  sister  up,  introduced  me, 
and  briefly  explained  the  cause  of  our  untimely 
visit. 

She  welcomed  me  with  a  degree  of  warmth  and 
kindness  which  showed  that  my  painful  fortune 
had  touched  a  tender  chord  in  her  heart,  and  that 
nature  had  bestowed  upon  her  the  same  noble  soul 
which  animated  the  breast  of  her  brother  and  his 
wife,  and  at  once  set  about  making  arrangements 
for  my  comfort. 


THE   LIFE   OF    A    BOOK    AGENT.  181 

Upon  seeing  me  comfortably  installed  in  my  new 

home,  Mr. took  his  departure  and  returned  to 

the  city.  I  have  never  seen  him  or  his  angel  wife 
since,  but  should  these  lines  come  under  their 
observation,  let  them  be  assured  that  my  heart 
still  cherishes  a  lively  sense  of  gratitude  to  them 
for  their  kindness  in  that  dark  hour  of  my  life,  and 
that  daily  and  nightly  my  prayers  are  offered  up 
to  heaven  for  its  choicest  blessings  to  rest  in  rich 
profusion  upon  them.  And,  though  their  reward 
may  not  be  of  this  earth,  at  the  great  day,  when 
all  shall  stand  before  the  bar  of  God,  then  shall  the 
righteous  Judge  say  unto  them :  "  Inasmuch  as 
ye  did  it  unto  one  of  the  least  of  these,"  and 
*'  Come  ye  blessed  of  my  Father." 


CHAPTER  XI. 

MRS.  KING,  the  lady  at  whose  house  I  was  now 
staying,  was  a  middle-aged  woman,  in  whose  coun- 
tenance a  genial,  sunny  disposition,  and  an  abund- 
ant stock  of  all  the  better  and  nobler  feelings  of 
human  nature  were  plainly  revealed.  Utterly  de- 
void of  all  affectation  or  absurd  display,  calm  and 
self-possessed,  and  having  an  unusual  amount  of 
strong,  practical  common  sense,  she  was  just  the 
right  guardian  for  me  in  my  present  lonely  and  be- 
wildering situation.  For,  to  tell  the  truth,  the 
terrible  incidents  of  the  last  few  hours  had  so  shat- 
tered my  nerves  that,  for  the  time  being,  I  was 
almost  incapable  of  thinking  intelligibly  upon 
any  subject,  or  of  devising  anything  for  the  future. 

As  soon  as  her  brother  had  taken  his  departure 
she  led  me  into  a  room  adjoining  the  one  in  which 
she  had  received  us,  and  told  me  that  was  to  be  my 
room  so  long  as  I  chose  to  occupy  it.  I  looked 
around  the  room,  and  everything  bore  the  most 
ample  testimony  to  her  character,  as  the  neat,  or- 
derly, and  unpretentious  housekeeper  she  was. 
The  furniture  was  all  plain — much  of  it  was  old- 
fashioned — but  everything  was  scrupulously  clean 
and  in  the  best  of*  order.  There  was  a  rag-carpet 
on  the  floor ;  in  one  corner  of  the  room  stood  a 
comfortable-looking  bed,  covered  with  a  clean  and 

(182) 


THE   LIFE   OF    A    BOOK    AGENT.  183 

marvelously  white  counterpane  ;  an  old-fashioned 
but  neat  and  comfortable-looking  sofa  occupied  one 
•side  of  the  room ;  there  were  two  or  three  chairs,  a 
small  table,  and  a  washstand ;  while  on  another 
side  of  the  room  was  a  small  fire-place,  in  which  a 
bright  and  cheerful-looking  fire  had  already  been 
started  by  my  kind  hostess.  She  drew  the  sofa  in 
front  of  the  fire,  brought  a  pillow,  and  told  me  to 
lie  down.  She  then  left  me,  saying  she  would  re- 
turn in  a  few  minutes  with  something  to  refresh  me 
after  my  ride.  In  vain  I  assured  her  I  did  not  need 
anything — that  I  did  not  wish  her  to  take  any 
trouble  :  she  replied  that  I  must  take  something, 
and  went  away. 

She  was  gone  but  a  short  time,  and  came  back 
with  a  tray,  upon  which  was  a  pot  of  strong  tea, 
cups,  sugar  and  cream,  nice  white  bread  and  fresh 
butter.  These  she  placed  upon  the  table,  and 
laughingly  told  me  to  eat  my  supper  and  go  to  bed 
like  a  good  child.  I  thanked  her  kindly,  and  re- 
plied that  I  had  had  my  supper,  but  would  drink 
some  tea  before  retiring.  She  then  told  me  to  lie 
and  take  my  rest  in  the  morning — that  she  did  not 
have  breakfast  early,  and  would  rap  on  my  door 
when  it  was  time  for  me  to  get  up ;  then  she  bid 
me  good-night,  and  left  the  room. 

After  she  had  gone  I  drank  a  cup  of  tea,  un- 
dressed Carrie  and  put  her  to  bed,  and  then  sat 
down  before  the  fire  to  try  to  think  and  devise 
some  plan  for  the  future.  Oh  !  how  dark  and  dis- 
mal my  lot,  both  present  and  future,  seemed,  as  I 


184  THE   LIFE   OF   A   BOOK   AGENT. 

sat  there  and  mused  upon  it  during  the  still  hours 
of  that  night.  Here  I  was,  an  entire  stranger ;  eight 
dollars,  which  I  had  in  my  purse,  constituted  my 
entire  fortune  ;  I  had  myself  and  Carrie  to  care  for, 
and  I  could  think  of  nothing  at  which  I  could  make 
a  comfortable  support,  and  raise  and  educate  her 
as  I  wished  to.  It  was  true  I  was  under  no  legal 
obligation  to  provide  for  her  :  she  was  no  relation 
to  me  ;  but  I  loved  her  as  if  she  were  my  own ;  she 
did  riot  know  but  that  I  was  her  mother ;  and 
the  thought  of  casting  her  upon  the  cold  charities 
of  the  world  was  not  to  be  endured  for  a  moment. 
But  what  could  I  do  ? 

Once  the  tempter  whispered  me  to  apply  to  Ma- 
son for  her  support.  Notwithstanding  his  reso- 
lute denial,  I  felt  confident  she  was  his  child  ;  and 
surely  it  would  be  but  justice  that  he  should  be 
charged  with  the  burden  of  her  maintenance,  rather 
than  myself.  But  the  suggestion  was  no  sooner 
made  than  it  was  rejected.  No  ;  I  had  deliberately 
fled  from  him,  and  had  taken  measures  to  conceal 
my  whereabouts ;  and  not  for  worlds  would  I  now 
let  him  know  where  I  was,  because  this  would  de- 
feat the  very  object  of  my  concealment  from  him. 
But  why  not  send  Carrie  back  to  him  ?  Because  I 
could  not  make  up  my  mind  to  part  with  her  in 
my  desolation.  She  was  the  only  living  being 
around  whom  the  tendrils  of  my  affection  could 
entwine  themselves  for  support ;  and,  were  she 
taken  away,  then,  indeed,  "  my  house  were  left  un- 
to me  desolate."  No;  keep  her  with  me  I  would; 


THE   LIFE    OF    A    BOOK    AGENT.  185 

and  she  should  never  know  but  she  whom  she  called 
"mother"  was  of  her  own  flesh  and  blood.  Yes, 
she  should  stay  with  me,  and  my  trust  in  God  was 
strong  that  he  would  find  some  way  of  escape  from 
my  present  embarrassing  situation. 

Thus  I  sat  by  the  fire  and  mused  the  remainder 
of  that  eventful  night,  and  it  was  riot  until  daylight 
was  dawning  in  the  east  that  the  chilliness  of  the 
atmosphere  (my  fire  had  long  since  burned  low  in 
the  grate,  though  I  noticed  it  not)  admonished  me 
that  I  should  retire  to  bed  to  keep  myself  from  suf- 
fering. I  undressed  and  got  into  bed  beside  my 
little  darling,  and,  worn  out  by  feebleness  and  the 
exciting  events  of  the  night,  I  sunk  at  last  into  a 
sound  and  refreshing  slumber. 

When  I  awoke  it  was  late,  for  the  sun  was  high 
in  the  heavens,  and  was  brightly  shining  into  my 
room  through  a  slight  opening  in  the  curtains.  Ev- 
erything around  me  looked  strange,  and  for  a  mo- 
ment I  could  not  realize  where  I  was.  But  soon 
the  recollection  of  the  horrid  events  of  the  past 
night  rushed  across  my  mind,  and,  with  a  groan  of 
anguish,  I  sunk  back  upon  my  pillow  and  closed 
my  eyes  as  if  to  shut  out  the  hated  vision.  But 
vain,  vain  were  my  efforts.  The  dread  past  was 
branded  and  burnt  into  my  brain  in  characters  of 
living  fire,  and  there  was  no  escape  from  the  horrid 
torture  of  its  contemplation,  and  again  I  groaned 
aloud  in  my  agony.  Poor  Carrie  was  awake  and 
was  frightened  at  the  violence  of  my  emotion,  and, 
in  piteous  tones,  asked  me  what  was  the  matter. 


186  THE  LIFE   OF   A   BOOK   AGENT. 

The  sound  of  her  gentle,  bird-like  voice  recalled 
me  to  myself ;  I  turned  over  toward  her,  and,  after 
caressing  her  for  a  few  moments,  looked  at  my 
watch.  Judge  of  my  surprise  to  find  that  it  was  a 
few  minutes  after  ten  o'clock ! 

I  immediately  arose  and  proceeded  to  dress  my- 
self and  Carrie,  when  we  went  into  the  next  room. 
Mrs.  King  was  sitting  there  alone,  engaged  in 
knitting.  She  looked  up,  with  a  pleasant  smile, 
as  we  came  in,  and  said  kindly : 

"  Good  morning.     I  hope  you  have  rested  well." 

"If  late  hours  are  any  evidence,  I  certainly  have. 
But  why  did  you  not  call  me  as  you  said  you 
would?" 

"  I  did  tap  once  on  your  door  about  eight  o'clock, 
but  you  seemed  to  be  sleeping  so  soundly  that  I 
thought  it  a  pity  to  disturb  you.  I  knew  it  was 
late  when  you  went  to  bed,  and  thought  the  rest 
would  do  you  more  good  than  anything  else.  So  I 
kept  your  breakfast  warm,  and  just  left  you  alone. 
Will  you  have  it  now  ?  " 

"Yes,  I  thank  you.  It  was,  indeed,  late  when  I 
went  to  bed,  for  I  did  -not  lie  down  until  daylight 
was  appearing  in  the  east.  But  I  am  sorry  to  put 
you  to  so  much  trouble." 

"  Say  nothing  about  that.  Poor  child  !  what  is 
my  trouble  compared  with  yours  ? " 

"  But  I  brought  my  trouble  upon  myself,  inno- 
cently, it  is  true,  and  it  is  not  right  for  me  to  cause 
you  trouble." 

"My  Master  tells  us  to  bear  each  others'  bur- 


THE   LIFE    OF    A    BOOK    AGENT.  187 

dens,  and,  although  I  fall  far  short  of  obeying  His 
commands,  at  all  times,  I  can  not  avoid  so  plain  a 
requirement  of  duty  as  this." 

This  little  conversation,  during  which  she  had 
been  engaged  in  placing  our  breakfast  on  the 
table,  gave  me  a  new  insight  into  the  character  of 
my  kind  hostess.  I  now  understood  the  secret  of 
the  calm  contentment  which  ever  rested  upon  her 
features,  and  the  genial  sunshine  which  ever  per- 
vaded her  presence.  She  was  an  humble,  consist- 
ent follower  of  the  meek  and  lowly  Jesus,  and  her 
simple,  Christian  faith  imparted  to  her  character 
a  calm  and  elevated  refinement  which  I  have  never 
seen  excelled.  Surely  there  is  a  crown  of  glory 
laid  up  for  her  at  the  right  hand  fcof  her  heavenly 
Master,  which  Christ,  the  righteous  Judge,  shall 
give  to  her  in  that  day. 

My  heart  was  too  full  for  reply,  and,  without  a 
word,  we  took  our  seats  at  the  table,  but  my  emo- 
tions choked  me,  and  I  could  scarcely  eat  the 
food  she  placed  before  me.  But  Carrie,  poor  child, 
had  nothing  to  pre-occupy  her  mind ;  she  did  not 
realize  or  know  the  situation  in  which  we  were 
placed,  and  she  eat  heartily,  prattling  away  mean- 
while in  all  the  merry  light-heartedness  of  child- 
hood. How  I  envied  her  freedom  from  care  and 
sorrow,  and  almost  wished  that  I,  too,  were  a  child 
again. 

Surely,  childhood  is  the  happiest  portion  of  life; 
it  can  not  be  otherwise.  In  infancy  we  know 
nothing  of  the  deceit  and  sinfulness  of  the  world  ; 


188  THE   LIFE    OF    A    BOOK    AGENT. 

the  spirit  has  not  been  blighted  by  contact  with 
the  rough  scenes  of  adversity  which  invariably 
accompany  more  mature  years  ;  the  world  seems 
but  a  vast  storehouse  of  pleasure,  instead  of  the 
scene  of  strife  and  conflict  which  later  experience 
demonstrates  it  to  be  ;  and  life  seems  one  long  day 
of  sunshine,  instead  of  a  succession  of  tempests, 
which  too  often  break  and  blight  the  spirit  of  man 
as  he  reels  before  the  unequal  conflict.  It  is  true 
that  childhood  has  its  griefs,  and  its  little  sorrows, 
but  their  memory  is  soon  swept  away  by  the 
torrent  of  happiness  which  speedily  follows,  and 
all  is  bright  again.  Happy,  thrice  happy,  days  of 
childhood  !  Would  that  ye  were  mine  again.  But 
vain  is  the  wish.  Ye  are  gone  never  to  return, 
and  I,  a  lone  wanderer  amid  the  children  of  men, 
am  left  to  breast  the  storms  of  maturer  life  as  best 
I  may.  God  give  me  his  grace  to  sustain  me  in 
the  dreadful  conflict,  lest  I  succumb  in  the  un- 
equal strife  ! 

After  breakfast  was  over  I  took  Carrie  on  my 
lap  and  talked  to  her.  I  felt  certain  that  Mason 
would  do  all  in  his  power  to  regain  possession  of 
us,  and  proceeded  to  give  her  such  instruction  as 
it  seemed  to  me  would  prevent  her  childish  prattle 
from  betraying  the  place  of  our  concealment.  I 
told  her  she  must  never  ask  for  her  papa  or  her 
little  brothers ;  that  they  were  all  dead,  and  she 
would  never  see  them  again,  and  that  if  any  one 
asked  her  about  them,  she  must  say  they  were 
dead.  The  poor  child  did  not  understand  the  im- 


THE    LIFE    OF   A    BOOK    AGENT.  189 

port  of  my  language — she  knew  not  what  I  meant 
when  I  told  her  "  they  were  dead  " — she  knew, 
however,  there  was  something  wrong,  and  my 
solemn  looks,  and  impressive  tone  and  manner, 
awed  her  into  submission  to  all  my  requirements. 
She  promised  compliance  with  my  wishes,  and  I 
have  every  reason  to  believe  she  kept  her  promise, 
notwithstanding  her  tender  years  at  the  time  of 
making  it. 

As  I  had  anticipated,  Mason  made  great  efforts 
to  discover  our  whereabouts.  I  had  been  at  Mrs. 
King's  but  two  or  three  days,  when  there  appeared 
in  the  columns  of  the  "  Commercial,"  and  other 
papers  of  the  city,  a  notice,  calling  for  information 
of  a  lady  and  child,  giving  a  perfect  description  of 
Carrie  and  myself.  This  was  inserted  for  three  or 
four  days  in  succession,  when,  it  having  evidently 
failed  to  elicit  any  information,  it  was  discontin- 
ued, and  another,  offering  a  "  liberal  reward,"  for 
tidings  of  the  fugitives,  appeared  in  its  place. 
Mrs.  King  called  my  attention  to  this  notice,  and 
said,  laughingly,  that  she  thought  she  had  better 
answer  it  and  get  the  "  liberal  reward."  But  I  felt 
no  uneasiness,  notwithstanding  Mason's  evidently 
earnest  attempts  to  ascertain  my  whereabouts. 
We  very  seldom  saw  any  company,  and  I  had  too 
much  confidence  in  the  only  persons  who  were  in 
possession  of  my  secret,  to  have  any  fears  of  their 
betraying  me.  These  advertisements,  therefore, 
gave  me  no  alarm  whatever,  and  I  remained  quiet> 
fully  believing  that  Mr. would  let  me  know 


190  THE    LIFE    OF    A    BOOK    AGENT. 

when  it  was  safe  for  me  to  leave  my  place  of  con- 
cealment. 

And  my  confidence  was  not  misplaced  in  the 
least.  For  some  time,  advertisements  of  various 
kinds  continued  to  appear  in  the  journals  of  the 
city,  all  pointing  to  me,  and  directed  to  the  object 
of  my  discovery,  but  after  a  time  they  ceased,  and 
the  pursuit  appeared  to  be  abandoned.  Doubtless 
Mason  would  have  found  me  had  I  sought  a  hiding- 
place  in  some  distant  part  of  the  country,  but  the 
fact  that  I  had  taken  refuge  so  close  to  him — under 
his  very  nose,  as  it  were — seems  never  to  have  oc- 
curred to  him,  and  his  efforts  were  all  directed  too 
far  away.  A  day  or  two  after  the  advertisements 
ceased  to  be  in  the  papers,  my  kind  friend,  Mr. 

,  sent  word  to  me  that  Mason  had  gone  to 

New  York  with  his  wife,  and  that  all  fear  of  de- 
tection was  over,  for  the  present  at  least.  Now  I 
felt  free  again,  for  though  I  had  never  had  any 

fears  that  either  Mr. or  Mrs.  King  would 

betray  me,  still  I  thought  that  I  was  not  perfectly 
safe  so  long  as  he  continued  the  search  for  me. 
I  knew  that  he  had  money,  and  I  was  well  aware 
of  the  wonderful  power  of  gold  in  stimulating  the 
efforts  of  detectives.  And  I  had  every  reason  to 
believe  that  he  would  spare  neither  time  nor  money 
in  his  efforts  to  find  me.  And  there  is  ample  evi- 
dence that  he  did  employ  a  large  number  of 
special  agents,  not  only  in  Cincinnati,  but  in  other 
cities,  to  discover  my  hiding-place. 

Now,  however,  the  search  was  ended,  and  the 


THE   LIFE    OF    A    BOOK    AGENT.  191 

question  arose,  what  was  I  to  do  ?  It  was  very  evi- 
dent that  I  could  not  stay  in  my  present  quarters — 
something  must  be  done  to  support  myself  and  my 
child — and  what  could  it  be  ?  I  knew  something 
about  painting  in  water-colors,  and  could  paint  on 
glass,  but  it  would  take  time  and  means  to  get  up 
a  class  of  pupils,  and,  beside,  I  had  no  great  con- 
fidence in  my  ability  to  earn  a  living  in  this  way. 
And,  even  if  successful,  how  was  I  to  support  Car- 
rie and  ^yself  while  I  was  getting  a  class  and 
obtaining  the  practice  necessary  to  enable  me  to 
teach  properly,  for  I  had  paid  no  attention  to  paint- 
ing for  a  long  time,  and  was  sadly  out  of  practice. 
I  had  no  money,  having  paid  Mrs.  King  what  little 
Iliad  when  I  came  there,  and  my  way  seemed  beset 
with  difficulties  on  every  hand.  But  something  I 
must  do. 

I  mentioned  my  difficulties  to  Mrs.  King,  and  she 
proposed  that  I  should  stay  with  her,  while  her 
brother  would  get  me  a  class,  and  that,  in  the 
meantime,  I  could  get  material  from  the  city,  and 
attend  to  my  practice  until  I  was  able  to  take 
charge  of  the  class.  To  this  kind  proposition,  I 
objected  that  I  had  already  burdened  her  brother 
and  herself  sufficiently,  and  that  I  was  unwilling 
to  tax  their  kindness  any  further.  It  was  finally 
settled  that  I  should  leave  Carrie  with  her  while  I 
went  to  the  city  and  found  some  employment  at 
which  I  could  earn  my  own  support  while  making 
the  necessary  preparations  to  take  my  class.  I 
dreaded  parting  from  my  child,  even  for  the  short 


192  THE   LIFE   OF   A   BOOK   AGENT. 

time  which  it  was  supposed  would  elapse  before  I 
could  reclaim  her ;  but  there  seemed  no  alterna- 
tive, and  I  bade  her  good-bye  and  went  to  the  city. 
The  result  of  my  efforts  to  get  employment  will  be 
found  in  the  next  chapter. 


CHAPTER    XII. 

UPON  leaving  Mrs.  King's  house  I  went  to  the 
city,  and  at  once  made  my  way  to  the  Spencer 
House,  but  what  a  disappointment  awaited  me 
there.  The  kind  friends  who  had  formerly  kept 
the  place,  and  from  whose  countenance  I  had  an- 
ticipated so  much,  were  no  longer  there.  Mrs. 

's  health  had  been  getting  delicate  for  some 

time,  and  they  had  finally  rented  the  house  and 
gone  on  a  journey  for  her  benefit,  having  left  the 
city  that  very  morning.  It  will  be  borne  in  mind 

that  nearly  a  week  had  elapsed  since  Mr. 

had  sent  me  the  intelligence  of  Mason's  departure, 
and  in  that  time  their  arrangements  had  been  com- 
pleted, and  they  had  gone  away.  What  was  I  to 
do  ?  I  was  alone  in  a  great  city,  without  money, 
and  without  a  single  friend  to  whom  I  could  apply 
for  even  the  miserable  boon  of  a  crust  of  bread  and 
a  night's  lodging. 

I  rested  for  a  short  time,  and  then  set  out  in 
search  of  something  I  could  do.  By  dint  of  per- 
sistent inquiry  I  at  last  found  a  stopping-place,  in 
the  family  of  a  Mr.  Jennings,  on  Main  Street, 
near  Seventh.  They  gave  me  no  regular  employ- 
ment, but  consented  that  I  should  remain  there, 
and  work  for  my  board,  until  something  better 
should  turn  up.  Poor  as  this  arrangement  was,  it 

13  (193) 


194  THE   LIFE   OF   A    BOOK    AGENT. 

still  furnished  me  with  food  and  shelter  until  I 
could  do  better.  For  this  I  was  duly  thankful,  and 
entered  upon  my  new  avocation  with  zest  and 
gratitude,  while,  in  the  meantime,  I  spared  no 
pains  to  find  some  more  lucrative  employment. 
But  days  passed,  and  no  opening  presented  itself 
— every  avenue  of  honorable  support  seemed  closed 
to  me,  and  despair  was  fast  settling  down  upon 
my  mind.  But  temporary  relief  was  at  hand,  and 
that,  too,  from  a  quarter  of  which  I  had  not 
dreamed. 

One  day,  as  I  was  returning  from  market, 
whither  I  had  been  for  Mrs.  Jennings,  I  met  a  gen- 
tleman who  was  about  passing  me  without  notice, 
but  who  suddenly  stopped,  and  exclaimed : 

'•My  God!  Mrs.  Giles,  is  that  you?" 

I  recognized  him  in  a  moment.  He  was  an  old 
neighbor  of  mine  in  my  happier  days,  and  I  re- 
turned his  greeting  as  warmly  as  it  was  given. 

"  Where  do  you  live,  and  where  is  Giles  ? "  he 
asked,  when  our  first  greeting  was  over. 

I  told  him  where  I  lived  and  how  I  lived ;  that  I 
knew  nothing  of  Giles ;  and  that,  if  he  would  call 
on  me  that  evening,  I  would  explain  everything  to 
him.  He  promised  to  do  so,  and  we  shook  hands 
and  parted,  he  going  down  the  street  and  I  return- 
ing to  what  was  my  home. 

In  the  evening  he  came,  and  I  told  him  all  that 
had  happened  since  we  had  seen  each  other,  and 
with  which  the  reader  is  already  acquainted.  He 
seemed  much  moved  at  the  story  of  my  misfortunes, 


THE   LIFE   OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  195 

and,  when  I  told  him  of  my  projects  for  the  future, 
and  that  if  I  could  only  get  to  Captain  Lake  I  was 
sure  he  would  let  me  have  the  means  to  carry  my 
plan  into  execution,  he  at  once  offered  to  loan  me 
the  money  to  go  to  Atlanta.  He  had  left  there  be- 
fore the  war  broke  out  (it  was  now  ended),  and  he 
had  not  been  back  since,  and  did  not  know  whether 
Captain  Lake  was  there  or  not,  but  he  would  let 
me  have  the  money  to  go  and  see.  I  accepted  his 
offer  with  thankfulness,  and  the  next  day  saw  me 
on  my  way  to  my  once  pleasant  home. 

But  I  was  doomed  to  the  bitterest  disappoint- 
ment I  had  experienced  since  discovering  the  per- 
fidy of  Mason.  I  do  not  refer  to  the  horrible  de- 
vastation which  had  been  wrought  by  the  cruel 
hand  of  war  in  and  around  Atlanta ;  this  is  matter 
of  history,  and  I  was,  in  some  measure,  prepared 
for  it — but  Captain  Lake  was  not  there,  nor  were 
my  efforts  to  obtain  any  intelligence  of  him  suc- 
cessful. It  was  a  long  time  before  I  could  even 
find  any  of  my  former  acquaintances.  All  had 
gone,  and  their  places  had  been  filled  by  others, 
and  at  the  home  of  my  childhood  I  was  in  a  land 
of  strangers.  At  length  I  succeeded  in  finding  an 
old  man  who  had  known  me  in  better  days,  and 
from  him  I  learned  that  Captain  Lake  was  some- 
where in  the  North,  but  he  could  not  tell  me  where. 
The  Captain  had  been  so  severely  wounded  that 
his  life  had  been  despaired  of,  and  he  had  been 
compelled  to  leave  the  army ;  and,  at  the  close  of 
the  war,  finding  his  property  destroyed,  in  a  great 


196  THE   LIFE   OF   A   BOOK   AGENT. 

measure,  and  himself  nearly  a  bankrupt,  he  had 
made  his  way  North  in  hopes  of  repairing  his 
shattered  fortunes  to  some  extent. 

This  was  all  he  could  tell  me ;  and  sad  intelli- 
gence it  was  to  me.  What  was  I  to  do  next  ?  My 
hopes  of  getting  assistance  from  that  quarter  had 
failed,  and  there  I  was  without  any  means  of  sup- 
porting myself,  or  even  of  scarcely  paying  my  way 
back  to  Cincinnati,  whither  I  must  go.  My  child 
was  there,  and  I  must  go  to  her  at  all  hazards. 
Beside,  in  the  disordered  state  of  things  at  Atlanta, 
it  was  preposterous  for  me  to  think  of  trying  to 
earn  a  living  there. 

The  difficulties  which  stared  me  in  the  face 
might  well  have  appalled  a  stouter  heart  than 
mine,  but  I  met  them  bravely  and,  thank  God! 
have  been  to  a  considerable  extent  able  to  over- 
come them. 

Through  the  kindness  and  with  the  aid  of  the  old 
man  above  mentioned,  I  succeeded  in  obtaining 
from  a  merchant  in  Atlanta  the  loan  of  some 
money  to  pay  my  fare  back  to  Cincinnati,  where  I 
proposed  to  start  anew  in  my  search  for  fortune. 
Upon  arriving  in  the  city,  my  first  duty  was  to  pay 
a  visit  to  Carrie,  and  the  reader  may  rest  assured 
that  I  never  performed  a  duty  more  willingly  in 
rny  life.  I  had  not  seen  her  for  more  than  a 
month,  and  when  it  is  remembered  that  this  was 
the  first  time  I  had  ever  been  separated  from  her, 
the  reader  will  have  no  difficulty  in  believing  that 


THE   LIFE   OF    A    BOOK    AGENT.  197 

it  was  with  emotions  of  no  little  joy  that  I  clasped 
her  to  my  heart  once  more. 

I  found  both  her  and  her  kind  guardian  in  the 
best  of  health,  and  was  greeted  by  both  with  a 
kindness  which  told  the  esteem  in  which  I  was 
held.  After  spending  a  day  there,  I  went  back  to 
the  city,  took  up  my  quarters  at  a  boarding-house 
at  No.  208  Fifth  Street,  and  at  orice  set  about  re- 
freshing my  knowledge  of  painting  and  seeking 
for  pupils.  I  also  took  the  necessary  steps  to 
secure  proper  rooms  in  which  to  receive  my  class, 
if  I  should  be  so  fortunate  as  to  get  one. 

My  success  equaled  my  most  sanguine  expecta- 
tions. In  about  ten  days  I  had  a  class  of  some 
twelve  pupils,  and  had  so  assiduously  practiced 
my  art,  that  I  felt  competent  to  take  charge  of 
them.  I  had  also  secured  very  comfortable  rooms 
at  No.  115  Elm  Street,  and  had  decided  to  keep 
house  there,  thinking  it  would  cost  me  less  than  to 
board,  while  my  duties  to  my  pupils  would  leave 
me  plenty  of  time  to  do  my  own  housework. 

For  a  time  I  got  on  swimmingly.  The  interest  of 
my  pupils  in  their  lessons  seemed  to  increase  from 
day  to  day,  and  as  they  progressed  under  my  in- 
structions they  took  pains  to  speak  of  my  school 
to  their  acquaintances.  Others  applied  for  admis- 
sion to  my  school,  and  in  a  short  time  I  had  all 
the  scholars  which  my  rooms  would  accommodate. 
I  even  began  to  think  of  taking  my  little  girl  from 
Mrs.  King,  and  taking  charge  of  her  myself — 
something  I  had  not  yet  done  for  the  reason  that 


198  THE   LIFE   OF   A   BOOK   AGENT. 

my  finances  were  not  in  such  condition  as  to  enable 
me  to  pay  her  board  in  the  city,  as  it  would  cost 
much  more  than  to  keep  her  at  her  present  location. 

But  I  had  lived  in  my  present  quarters  only 
about  three  weeks,  had  only  got  fairly  started 
with  my  school,  when  the  owner  of  the  house  came 
to  me  and  told  me  that  he  was  about  selling  it, 
and  that  I  must'  look  for  rooms  elsewhere.  Of 
course  there  was  no  help  for  it,  and  so  dismissing 
my  school  for  a  time,  I  set  out  on  the  weary  quest 
of  another  stopping  place.  My  search  was  long 
and  tedious ;  but  why  inflict  the  annoyances  of 
"  house-hunting  "  upon  my  readers  ?  Suffice  it  to 
say  that  I  finally  succeeded  in  getting  rooms  for 
barely  two  months — nothing  would  induce  the 
owner  to  rent  them  longer — at  No.  10  Harrison 
street.  And  to  tell  the  truth,  I  did  not  wish  to 
stay  there  very  long,  for  I  had  to  pay  a  most  exor- 
bitant rent,  and  my  finances  were  not  sufficient  to 
stand  the  heavy  drain  for  very  long. 

When  my  time  was  up,  I  again  found  temporary 
quarters  in  four  rooms — I  had  to  take  all  or  none — 
on  the  third  floor  of  a  house  on  Sixth  street.  But 
financial  considerations  induced  me  to  make  my 
stay  there  as  brief  as  possible,  and  in  a  short  time 
I  removed  from  this  location  to  a  small  cottage  at 
No.  38  Barr  street,  where  I  remained  as  long  as  I 
staid  in  Cincinnati.  During  all  this  time  I  had 
had  a  good  class  in  painting,  and  my  receipts 
had  been  considerably  in  advance  of  my  expedi- 
tures.  I  was  in  fact  doing  very  well. 


THE   LIFE   OF   A   BOOK    AGENT.  199 

But  from  some  cause  which  I  have  never  bean 
able  to  explain  to  my  own  satisfaction,  my  busi- 
ness began  to  decline.  The  pupils  who  composed 
my  first  classes  had  obtained  all  the  knowledge  I 
was  capable  of  imparting  to  them,  and  no  others 
appeared  to  take  their  places.  Becoming  con- 
vinced that  my  day  of  usefulness  and  pecuniary 
success  in  Cincinnati  was  past,  I  made  up  my 
rnind  to  sell  off  my  furniture,  remove  to  Detroit, 
and  try  my  lucfc  there ;  and  at  once  proceeded  to 
carry  my  determination  into  effect.  Accordingly 
I  converted  what  few  household  goods  I  had  into 
money,  and  with  this  in  my  pocket  '.vent  to  Mrs. 
King's  to  get  Carrie,  preparatory  to  my  journey  to 
the  city  of  Detroit. 

I  found  Mrs.  King  almost  unwilling  to  let  Carrie 
go  away.  She  had  no  children  of  her  own,  and 
she  had  become  so  attached  to  "  the  little  darling" 
that  she  hardly  knew  how  to  part  with  her.  She 
conceded  my  right  to  take  her,  but,  at  the  same 
time  made  the  most  liberal  offers  if  I  would  only 
consent  to  let  her  keep  my  child.  She  had  an 
abundance  of  property,  and  if  I  would  only  let 
Carrie  stay  with  her,  it  should  be  hers  at  Mrs. 
King's  death.  Perhaps  it  would  have  been  better 
for  Carrie  if  I  had  consented  to  let  her  stay,  but 
she  was  all  I  had  to  love  in  the  wide,  wide  world, 
and  I  felt  that  it  would  be  the  next  thing  to  taking 
my  life  to  part  with  her.  Accordingly  I  declined 
Tier  munificent  offers,  and  took  Carrie  away,  loaded 
with  presents,  and,  I  am  convinced,  sincerely 


200  THE   LIFE    OF   A    BOOK    AGENT. 

mourned  by  her  who  had  so  long  acted  a  mother's 
part  toward  her.  Before  we  left,  she  exacted  from 
me  a  promise  that  if  at  any  time  Carrie  became  a 
burden  to  me,  and  I  found  it  necessary  to  part 
with  her,  she  should  have  her.  This  promise  I 
gave  the  more  readily  because  I  felt  sure  that  the 
condition  upon  which  it  was  based  would  never 
arise.  And,  thank  God !  it  never  has  arisen.  I 
have  been  steeped  almost  to  the  lips  in  poverty's 
depths — I  have  seen  the  time  that  I  hardly  knew 
where  my  next  meal  was  to  come  from — I  have 
been  driven  to  pawn  my  wearing  apparel,  my 
jewelry,  and  even  (as  has  been  seen)  the  keepsakes 
of  dear  and  valued  friends,  in  order  to  purchase 
the  means  of  appeasing  my  hunger,  but  amid  it 
all,  the  time  has  never  come  when  I  was  willing  to 
part  with  that  child.  And  though  she  is  no  rela- 
tion to  me,  though  no  ties  of  consanguinity  bind  us 
together,  though  there  is  no  bond  between  us  save 
that  arising  from  the  care  I  had  bestowed  upon 
her  in  the  helpless  days  of  infancy,  the  time  will 
never  come,  so  long  as  I  am  able  to  earn  the 
merest  pittance  of  food  for  myself  or  her,  in  which 
I  shall  be  willing  to  have  her  care  and  training 
transferred  to  other  hands  than  my  own.  I  may, 
of  course,  consent  that  temporarily  she  shall  be 
placed  in  the  care  of  another,  as  a  school  teacher 
or  the  like,  but  further  than  this  I  never  will  while 
I  have  life  and  reason  left. 

My  journey   to  Detroit   was  attended  with  no 
incidents  worthy  of  notice  in  these  pages.     There 


THE   LIFE    OF    A   BOOK    AGENT.  201 

was  the  usual  amount  of  annoyance  and  weariness 
attending  railroad  travel,  and  with  which  all  my 
readers  are  familiar ;  there  was  the  usual  amount 
of  uproar  and  confusion  at  the  various  stations ; 
there  was  the  usual  annoyance  from  porters, 
hackmen,  omnibus  drivers,  etc.,  which  is  to  be 
met  with  in  all  the  principal  cities  of  the  United 
States,  to  the  disgrace  of  human  nature  in  general, 
and  of  municipal  officers  in  particular.  But  we 
managed  to  live  through  it  all,  and,  in  due  time, 
found  ourselves  in  the  city  of  Detroit. 

I  had  no  very  well  defined  plans  in  coming  to 
this  place.  So  far  from  designing  to  pursue  the 
avocation  which  had  afforded  me  such  a  comfort- 
able subsistence  in  Cincinnati,  I  had  become  dis- 
gusted with  it  as  a  means  of  livelihood,  and  was 
firmly  resolved  to  resort  to  it  only  in  case  all  other 
means  failed  to  produce  the  desired  results.  I 
was  therefore  totally  at  sea  as  to  the  future,  and 
could  do  nothing  but  stop  at  a  hotel  until  some- 
thing should  turn  up,  or,  until  I  could  decide  upon 
my  future  course  of  action. 

The  prospect  looked  cheerless  enough.  There 
I  was,  in  the  midst  of  a  large  city,  amid  the  moving 
myriads  of  whose  population  I  was  not  aware  that 
I  knew  a  single  soul,  with  but  little  means  in  my 
possession,  and  entirely  at  a  loss  which  way  to 
turn  for  succor  and  relief.  But  my  confidence  in 
Providence,  or  my  lucky  star,  was  unabated ;  I 
felt  sure  that  some  means  of  relief  would  be  pre- 
sented to  me ;  and  I  retired  to  my  room  at  the 


202  THE   LIFE   OF   A   BOOK   AGENT. 

hotel,  and  slept  as  soundly  as  though  the  future 
had  been  to  me  a  cheerful  day  of  summer  sunshine 
instead  of  the  dark  and  gloomy  cloud  which  it 
really  was. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

THE  next  morning  after  my  arrival  in  Detroit  I 
took  an  inventory  of  my  means,  with  a  view  of 
determining  upon  some  mode  of  support  for  Carrie 
and  myself.  Upon  one  thing  I  was  decided — that 
I  would  not  resort  to  teaching  if  I  could  find  any- 
thing else  to  do.  Not  that  teaching  was  in  itself 
so  disagreeable  to  me — many  things  are  more  un- 
pleasant ;  but  it  was  very  confining,  and  the  con- 
finement was  telling  upon  my  health.  Indeed,  this 
was  one  reason  why  I  was  so  willing  to  give  it  up 
and  leave  Cincinnati. 

I  found  myself  in  possession  of  something  over 
five  hundred  dollars — enough,  I  thought,  to  enable 
me  to  furnish  a  house,  and  open  a  small  boarding 
establishment,  at  which  I  was  confident  I  could 
make  my  own  and  Carrie's  living.  The  next  thing 
was  to  secure  a  house,  and  I  at  once  set  out  in 
quest  of  one,  leaving  Carrie  in  charge  of  one  of  the 
girls  at  the  hotel.  My  search  was  long  and  tire- 
some, but  was  at  last  successful.  I  found  a  very 
neat  cottage  of  six  rooms,  which  was  vacant,  and 
which  I  secured,  paying  three  months'  rent  in 
advance,  and  then  at  once  set  about  furnishing  it. 
My  furniture  was  comfortable,  though  plain,  but 
everything  was  high,  and  when  my  house  was 

furnished,  and  a  supply  of  provision  bought,  my 

(203) 


204  THE   LIFE   OF   A   BOOK   AGENT. 

five  hundred  dollars  had  been  reduced  to  an  alarm- 
ingly small  amount.  Still  I  had  had  several  appli- 
cations for  board,  and  I  felt  confident  of  success  in 
my,  to  me,  new  enterprise. 

A  day  or  two  after  opening  my  house  I  met  on 
the  street  with  one  whom  I  little  expected  to  see 
there,  arid  who  on  his  part  was  equally  surprised 
at  the  meeting.  It  was  none  other  than  Captain 
Lake.  He  had  been  living  in  the  city  for  some 
time,  but  had  no  idea  I  was  so  near  him,  though 
he  had  made  considerable  effort  to  find  me.  The 
last  trace  he  had  of  me,  he  had  obtained  from 
Giles  (or  Mason),  who  had  been  to  him  in  search 
of  me,  and  had  told  him  all  the  circumstances  of 
our  parting,  avowing,  at  the  same  time  his  deter- 
mination to  find  me  and  live  with  me  again.  The 
Captain  had  been  very  uneasy  about  this,  and  was 
very  much  relieved  when  I  assured  him  that  under 
no  circumstances  would  I  consent  to  any  such 
arrangement — that  I  was  not  his  wife,  and  nothing 
should  induce  me  to  become  his  mistress. 

I  then  inquired  about  himself  and  family.  His 
family  were  well,  but  he  was  suffering  severely 
from  a  wound  he  had  received  while  in  the  army, 
and  which  it  was  thought  would  cause  his  death. 
I  may  remark  here  that  this  wound  did  finally 
end  his  life.  He  had  lost  a  great  share  of  his 
property  during  the  war,  but  had  saved  enough  to 
afford  himself  and  family  a  rather  moderate  sup- 
port. And  it  was  from  him  at  this  time  that  I 
learned  what  I  have  before  stated ;  that  my 


THE   LIFE    OF    A    BOOK   AGENT.  205 

"brother  had  fallen  during  the  campaign  against 
Atlanta.  Although  I  had  not  heard  anything  of 
him  for  a  long  time,  I  had  hoped  until  this  moment 
that  he  had  come  out  of  the  terrible  conflict  un- 
harmed, but  this  hope  was  now  suddenly  dashed 
to  earth,  and  with  what  terrible  force  the  blow  fell 
upon  my  heart  can  only  be  imagined  by  those, 
who  like  me,  have  been  called  to  mourn  the  loss  of 
a  dear  and  only  brother.  And  poignancy  was 
added  to  my  sorrow  by  the  reflection  that  he  had 
fallen  in  what  I  could  not  but  consider  an  unjust 
and  unholy  cause.  But  it  was  vain  to  mourn. 
He  was  gone,  and  I  was  alone  in  the  wide  world. 

Captain  Lake  told  me  where  they  were  living, 
invited  me  to  come  there,  and  offered  me  a  home 
in  his  family,  saying  I  should  want  for  nothing  so 
long  as  I  refused  to  hold  any  communication  with 
Giles.  I  thanked  him  for  his  kind  offer,  but  told 
him  what  arrangements  I  had  made  for  obtaining 
my  support,  and  that  I  preferred  not  to  depend 
upon  anyone — assured  him  that  I  had  every  pros- 
pect of  succeeding  in  my  undertaking,  and  said 
that  in  case  of  failure  it  would  be  time  enough  to 
tax  his  generosity  for  my  support.  He  seemed 
very  much  pleased  at  the  energy  I  had  displayed, 
and  assured  me  that  if  at  any  time  I  found  it 
necessary  to  call  upon  him  for  assistance  it  would 
be  cheerfully  rendered.  He,  however,  advised  me 
to  drop  the  name  of  Giles  and  take  my  maiden 
name,  which  I  told  him  I  had  already  done,  and 
now  called  myself  Mrs.  Hamilton.  He  then  bid 


206  THE   LIFE    OF    A    BOOK    AGENT. 

me  good  evening,  and  left  me,  saying  that  Mrs. 
Lake  would  come  and  see  me  the  next  day,  and  I 
must  return  her  visit. 

In  accordance  with  his  promise,  Mrs.  Lake  came 
to  see  me  on  the  morrow.  She  seemed  pleased  to 
see  me,  as  I  certainly  was  her  ;  but  she  was,  oh  ! 
so  changed.  In  the  few  years  since  I  had  seen  her 
she  seemed  to  have  lived  half  a  lifetime — her  once 
smooth  and  lovely  brow  was  now  deformed  with 
incipient  wrinkles  ;  her  blooming  complexion  had 
faded;  and  her  hair  in  various  places  was  streaked 
with  gray.  It  could  not  be  that  age  had  wrought 
so  much  of  change  in  her,  and  I  could  not  avoid 
the  conviction  that  her  married  life  had  not  been 
very  happy.  Nevertheless,  she  possessed  the 
same  degree  of  humor  and  gayety  as  of  old — it 
might  be  subdued  a  trifle  by  the  years  which  had 
passed  over  her  head — and  we  passed  a  very 
pleasant  day  together.  When  she  went  home, 
I  accompanied  her,  and  spent  the  night  at  their 
house,  returning  early  the  next  morning ;  for  I 
had  advertised  in  the  Free  Press  for  boarders,  and 

I  anticipated  applications  for  my  unoccupied  rooms 
during  the  day. 

And  my  anticipations  were  not  disappointed. 
Before  nightfall  my  rooms  were  all  engaged,  and 

II  had  been  compelled  to  refuse  two  or  three  appli- 
cants.    My  success  had  more  than  equaled  my  ex- 
pectations.    In  less  than  a  week  from   the   time 
of  opening  my  house  I  had  filled  it  with  as  agree- 
able a  family  of  boarders  as  I  ever  met  in  my  life. 


THE   LIFE   OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  207 

Two  of  them,  a  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hopkins,  were  especial 
favorites  of  mine,  particularly  the  lady.  I  do  not 
think  I  ever  knew  a  more  charming  woman  than 
she  was,  while  her  husband  was  just  my  ideal  of 
a  gentleman.  My  situation  was  very  pleasant, 
and,  for  a  time,  things  went  on  to  my  entire  satis- 
faction. As  I  have  said,  I  called  myself  Mrs. 
Hamilton,  and  I  gave  my  boarders  to  understand 
that  I  was  a  widow,  and  that  Carrie  was  my 
daughter.  I  had  considerable  trouble  to  school 
her  in  to' this  little  deception  ;  and  my  heart  smote 
me  not  a  little  as  I  trained  her  to  utter  the  falsehood 
which  was  to  shield  my  own  reputation  and 
hers.  She  would  insist  that  her  father's  name 
was  Giles,  and  would  persist  in  asking  for  him 
and  for  her  little  brothers.  It  was  a  long  time 
before  I  could  educate  her  to  the  point  at  which 
I  felt  it  safe  to  allow  her  to  talk  alone  with 
others  ;  but  at  length  I  succeeded,  and  the  lie 
was  fastened  upon  her  pure,  young  spirit.  Was 
it  a  sin  to  teach  her  thus  to  deceive  ?  Answer 
me,  ye  casuists,  who  shudder  with  horror  at  the 
thought  of  the  least  concealment  of  the  truth  in 
others,  how  many  of  you,  under  the  same  circum- 
stances, would  have  done  otherwise  than  I  did  ? 

But,  though  everything  was  going  so  pleasantly 
upon  the  surface,  there  was  one  matter  which  gave 
me  no  little  secret  uneasiness.  I  dreaded  lest 
Mason  might  succeed  in  the  determination  he  had 
expressed  to  Captain  Lake — might  succeed  in  dis- 
covering my  whereabouts,  which,  it  was  very  ap- 


208  THE   LIFE   OF   A    BOOK   AGENT. 

parent  to  me,  would  be  immediately  and  everlast- 
ingly fatal  to  all  my  prospects  of  success  ;  and  my 
anxiety  was  not  in  the  least  dissipated  when  Cap- 
tain Lake  told  me  he  had  reason  to  suspect  that 
Mason  was  in  the  city,  and  was  still  engaged  in 
the  prosecution  of  his  search.  I  did  not  know 
what  to  do.  I  hardly  dared  to  go  out  for  fear  of 
meeting  him ;  and  the  probable  consequences  of 
such  a  meeting  were  the  burden  of  my  dreams  by 
night.  One  thing  which  caused  this  secret  dread 
to  weigh  heavier  upon  my  spirits,  was  the  fact  that 
I  had  no  one  to  whom  I  could  confide  my  burden. 
I  had  but  one  living  friend  to  whom  I  could  have 
unfolded  the  tale,  and  he  was  in  San  Francisco, 
California.  Sometimes  I  thought  of  writing  to 
him  about  the  matter,  but  I  could  not  broach  the 
subject  without  giving  him  the  whole  history  of 
my  past  life,  and  I  dreaded  to  see  it  in  writing : 
so  I  kept  my  burden  to  myself,  and  struggled  on. 

But  the  burden,  together  with  my  constant  con- 
finement, was  fast  wearing  me  out.  I  grew  pale 
and  thin ;  I  was  flushed  and  feverish  at  night,  and 
my  whole  system  was  enervated  and  unstrung  to  a 
most  alarming  degree.  At  length  I  yielded  to  the 
solicitations  of  my  friends,  and  applied  to  a  phy- 
sician of  eminence  and  standing  for  relief.  He 
pronounced  my  case  consumption,  and  gravely  as- 
sured me  that  there  was  no  relief  for  me ;  that  I 
must  die  ere  long,  and  that  all  that  could  be  done 
was  to  smooth  my  passage  to  the  tomb. 

Although  I  was  satisfied  he  was  in  error  as  to 


THE   LIFE   OF    A   BOOK    AGENT.  209 

what  ailed  me,  still  I  thought  it  quite  likely  he 
was  right  about  my  early  decease,  and  this  reflec- 
tion but  increased  my  uneasiness.  For,  when  I 
was  dead,  what  would  become  of  Carrie  ?  Who 
would  care  for  the  little  bud  which  was  just  devel- 
oping into  the  perfect  flower  ?  As  this  inquiry,  in 
all  its  dreadful  vividness,  presented  itself  to  my 
mind,  I  again  thought  of  writing  to  my  friend  in 
California,  and  asking  him  to  take  care  of  my 
child  when  I  was  gone ;  but  how  could  I  tell  him 
of  her  without  telling  him  all  my  history  ?  And 
again  I  shrunk  from  the  dreadful  exposition.  My 
courage  was  not  then  equal  to  the  task  I  am  now 
pursuing.  Wronged  as  I  felt  that  I  had  already 
been  by  fate  and  the  world,  I  had  not  yet  sustain- 
ed enough  of  injury  at  their  hands  to  rouse  me  to 
the  pitch  of  desperate  courage  which  would  enable 
me  to  lay  bare  for  the  inspection  of  mankind  all 
the  miseries  and  sorrows  which  had  been  my  lot 
since  my  advent  upon  the  stage  of  existence — to 
relate,  as  guides  and  warnings  to  the  young,  the 
many  and  fatal  mistakes  of  my  career.  And, 
above  all,  I  shrunk  from  acquainting  him  with  my 
condition,  feeling  assured  (so  devoid  was  I  of  con- 
fidence in  any  of  the  human  family)  that  if  the 
truth,  with  which  the  reader  is  already  familiar, 
were  unfolded  to  him,  he  would  at  once  and  for- 
ever blot  my  name  from  the  list  of  his  friends,  and 
he — almost  the  last  tie  which  bound  me  to  the 
mass  of  humanity — be-  lost  to  me  ;  and  from  this 
fate  I  shrunk  with  the  most  painful  apprehension. 

14 


210  THE   LIFE    OF    A    BOOK    AGENT. 

I  am  now  well  assured  that  in  this  I  judged  him 
wrongfully,  and  that  the  revelation,  so  far  from 
alienating  him  from  me,  would  but  have  bound  his 
spirit  more  closely  to  mine  ;  but  it  is  the  province 
of  misery  to  render  us  suspicious  of  all  around  us, 
and  at  this  time  I  was  intensely  miserable. 

And  now  was  about  to  occur  an  event  which 
was  destined  to  work  an  entire  change  in  my  life 
— an  event  whose  consequences  were  to  endure  as 
long  as  my  life  shall  last,  and  which  was  destined 
to  sink  me  to  still  lower  depths  of  misery  and 
wretchedness  than  any  I  had  yet  tasted,  although, 
even  at  that  time,  it  seemed  to  me  I  had  already 
drained  the  bitter  cup  of  sorrow  to  its  very  dregs. 

I  was  going  to  market  one  evening  with  my 
basket  on  my  arm,  and,  as  I  walked  along,  was 
musing  upon  the  wretchedness  which  had  attend- 
ed my  every  step  in  life,  and  wondering  why  I  had 
thus  been  made  the  target  at  which  fate  delighted 
to  launch  her  sharpest  and  bitterest  arrows,  when, 
accidently  raising  my  eyes,  I  beheld  a  sight  which 
for  a  moment  caused  my  heart  to  stand  still,  and 
almost  froze  the  blood  in  my  veins.  Crossing  the 
street  just  in  front  of  me  was  Eugene  Giles  Mason 
— he  from  whose  face  I  had  been  so  carefully 
hiding  for  the  last  two  or  three  years,  and  than 
whose  presence  I  could  conceive  of  nothing  more 
dreadful.  Fortunate  for  me  it  was  that  his  eyes 
were  bent  upon  the  ground,  and  that  he  was  look- 
ing neither  to  the  right  nor  the  left :  had  his  eyes 
been  cast  in  my  direction  he  could  not  have  failed 


THE   LIFE   OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  211 

to  see  and  recognize  me,  and  I  shudder  even  to  this 
day  when  I  reflect  upon  what  might  have  been  the 
consequences  of  such  a  discovery.  I  stood  still, 
hardly  daring  to  draw  my  breath  until  he  had 
passed  out  of  sight,  when  I  turned  and  flew  home- 
ward as  rapidly  as  my  trembling  limbs  could 
carry  me. 

Arriving  at  my  own  house,  I  sat  down  and  tried 
to  devise  a  plan  to  meet  the  emergency,  but  for 
some  time  my  mind  was  incapable  of  anything 
like  clear  or  connected  action.  The  one  great  and 
terrible  fact  that  the  destroyer  of  my  peace  and 
happiness  was  in  the  city,  doubtless  in  search  of 
me,  loomed  up  before  my  mental  vision  in  fearful 
proportions,  and  for  a  time  obscured  everything 
else.  It  is  true,  I  had  heard  of  him  from  time  to 
time,  still  engaged  in  the  prosecution  of  his  search 
for  me ;  but  I  had  escaped  so  long  that  I  had 
come  to  regard  his  discovery  of  me  as  of  so  little 
probability  as  to  give  me  little  or  no  uneasiness. 
But  he  was  here  in  the  city — I  had  seen  him  with 
my  own  eyes — and  now  the  chase  seemed  so  near 
up  as  to  fill  me  with  the  most  fearful  apprehen- 
sions, and  to  deprive  me  for  the  time  of  all  power 
of  rational  reflection. 

At  length,  however,  the  fever  of  excitement 
having  passed  away,  I  set  myself  to  calmly  con- 
sider what  was  best  for  me  to  do.  One  thing  was 
evident — I  could  not  remain  where  I  was,  nor  did  I 
deem  it  safe  even  to  stay  in  the  city  where  he  was 
stopping.  Of  course,  he  had  photographs  of  me, 


212  THE   LIFE    OF    A   BOOK   AGENT. 

and,  by  the  aid  of  these  and  the  assistance  of  the 
police,  he  would  doubtless  soon  be  able  to  find  me, 
no  matter  how  much  care  I  might  use  in  conceal- 
ing the  place  of  my  abode,  or  how  obscure  the 
station  I  might  assume.  I  at  once,  therefore,  de- 
termined to  sell  out  what  property  I  had,  in  the 
most  secret  manner  possible,  no  matter  at  what 
sacrifice,  and  leave  Detroit.  But  whither  should  I 
go  ?  This  was  a  question  of  no  little  difficulty  with 
me ;  but,  after  debating  it  some  time  in  my  own 
mind,  I  decided  upon  Chicago,  believing  he  would 
be  less  likely  to  seek  me  in  that  direction  than  in 
any  other. 

It  may  seem  strange  that  I  did  not  consult  Cap- 
tain Lake  and  his  wife  before  deciding  a  matter  of 
so  much  importance  as  an  entire  change  in  my 
mode  of  life,  as  well  as  location ;  but  I  must  con- 
fess that  my  hasty  and  capricious  temper,  which 
has  been  the  bane  of  my  life,  had  put  it  out  of  my 
power  to  do  so.  I  will  explain.  The  reader  is 
familiar  with  the  means  by  which  Captain  Lake 
had  succeeded  in  possessing  himself  of  the  prop- 
erty which  should  have  been  of  right  mine.  One 
day  when  his  wife  was  visiting  me,  smarting  under 
a  sense  of  my  wrongs,  I  had  unjustly  and  ungrate- 
fully (for  had  she  not  nursed  me  back  to  life  from 
the  very  door  of  death's  gloomy  pavilion  ?)  accused 
her  of  being  a  party  to  her  husband's  wrong — an 
accusation  which  she  resented  with  proper  spirit ; 
and  the  result  had  been  an  entire  cessation  of  in- 
tercourse between  us.  Oh  !  how  often  and  bitterly 


THE    LIFE    OF    A    BOOK    AGENT.  213 

have  I  repented  my  inj  ustice  and  ingratitude  ;  but 
what  availed  my  repentance  ?  I  never  saw  her 
again — she  died  when  I  was  far  away,  without  my 
ears  being  gladdened  by  the  sound  of  her  whisper- 
ed pardon;  and  yet  I  know  that  her  pure  spirit 
has  long  since  forgiven  the  great  wrong  I  then 
heaped  upon  her. 

No  sooner  had  I  determined  upon  my  course 
of  action  than  I  hastened  to  carry  it  into  effect. 
I  sold  out  my  furniture,  gave  up  the  lease  of  my 
house,  found  a  good  place  for  Carrie  (for  I  did 
not  wish  to  take  her  with  me  until  I  became 
settled),  wrote  a  note  to  Captain  Lake,  telling  him 
my  reasons  for  leaving,  but  not  where  I  had 
gone ;  and  with  the  little  means  realized  from  the 
sacrifice  of  my  property,  set  out  to  commence  life 
anew  in  the  Garden  City  of  the  great  West,  with- 
out a  single  plan  of  my  future  course  in  earning  a 
livelihood. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

IN  due  time  I  arrived  at  Chicago,  and  stopped 
at  the  Massasoit  House,  at  the  corner  of  Dearborn 
and  Randolph  streets,  where,  however,  I  remained 
but  one  night.  My  means  were  by  far  too  limited 
to  allow  me  to  remain  there,  or  anywhere  else,  in 
idleness,  and  my  first  care  was  to  find  some  cheap 
but  respectable  boarding-house,  conveniently 
located  for  carrying  on  the  occupation  I  had  de- 
termined to  adopt,  for  a  time  at  least — that  of  a 
plain  seamstress. 

I  succeeded  in  finding  a  very  comfortable  room, 
and  reasonably  good  fare,  at  the  house  of  a 

Mr.  ,  near  the  corner  of  Lake  and  Halstead 

streets,  for  which  I  paid,  in  advance,  the  sum  of 
seven  dollars  per  week.  I  view  of  the  fact  that  I 
had  less  than  three  hundred  dollars  in  my  posses- 
sion, a  part  of  which  it  was  absolutely  necessary 
for  me  to  lay  out  in  clothing,  the  price  seemed  to 
me  very  high  ;  but,  nevertheless,  it  was  the  best  I 
could  do,  and  I  comforted  myself  with  the  reflec- 
tion that  I  could  earn  at  least  this  amount  each 
week  with  my  needle.  Poor  fool  that  I  was  ?  I 
did  not  then  know  that  sewing-women  do  not  live 
by  their  work — that  they  sew  and  starve,  while 
wealthy  manufacturers  reap  the  reward  of  their 
toil.  Nor  did  I  know  that,  before  I  could  get  any 

(214) 


THE   LIFE   OF   A   BOOK    AGENT.  215 

work,  the  most  fearful  inroads  would  be  made 
upon  the  little  pittance  I  had  brought  from  Detroit. 
As  soon  as  I  had  secured  my  room  and  adjusted 
my  furniture  (and  scanty  enough  it  was,  let  me 
assure  you,)  to  my  satisfaction,  I  set  out  in  search 
of  employment,  for  I  realized  the  fact  that  I  could 
not  live  in  idleness  and  pay  seven  dollars  a  week 
for  my  board.  And,  even  if  I  had  been  able,  I 
could  never  have  ventured  to  sit  down  without  em- 
ployment of  some  sort  to  divert  my  mind  from  the 
contemplation  of  the  gloomy  past,  and  the  fearful 
apprehension  of  the  future.  The  dread  of  dis- 
covery by  Mason  had  received  a  new  impetus  from 
the  momentary  view  I  had  had  of  him  in  the  streets 
of  Detroit,  and  this  fear,  together  with  the  contem- 
plation of  the  past,  would  have  driven  me  wild  had 
I  remained  idle.  So,  with  as  stout  and  brave  a 
heart  as  I  conld  conjure  up,  but  feeling,  neverthe- 
less, a  little  like  "  a  cat  in  a  strange  garret,"  I 
went  forth.  And  the  history  of  my  adventures  in 
search  of  the  employment  I  sought — the  rebuffs 
and  refusals  with  which  I  met  on  every  hand — 
the  covert  sneers  and  almost  'open  insults  with 
which  my  applications  were  frequently  answered — 
the  heart-sickness  with  which,  as  refusal  after  re- 
fusal were  meted  out  to  me,  I  pursued  my  self- 
imposed  task — all  these,  if  written  out  in  full, 
would  make  a  volume  much  larger  than  the  one, 
dear  reader,  now  before  you.  But  my  heart  would 
fail  me  were  I  to  undertake  to  write  them  out,  and 
yours  would  weary  in  reading  them,  and  for  both 


216  THE    LIFE   OF   A   BOOK    AGENT. 

our  sakes  I  for  bear.     A  few  instances  must  suffice 
to  illustrate  the  treatment  I  encountered. 

One  of  the  first  places  at  which  I  called  was  a 
large  retail  clothing  store,  but  a  short  distance 
from  my  boarding  place.  I  omit  the  name  and 
location  of  the  house  for  the  reason  that  I  have 
not  enough  good- will  toward  them  to  care  about 
advertising  for  them  free  of  charge. 

As  I  entered  the  door,  a  spruce,  dapper-looking 
little  clerk  came  forward,  bowing  and  scraping; 
but  when  he  came  near  enough  to  see,  from  my 
dress,  that  I  was  not  one  of  the  ton,  bat  simply  a 
working  girl,  his  excessive  politeness  vanished  in 
a  moment,  his  back  stiffened,  and  his  manners  be- 
came almost  freezing  in  their  cold  formality. 

"•Good  morning,  ma'am,  anything  wanting?" 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  I,  a  little  haughtily,  for  I  felt 
somewhat  piqued  at  his  manner  ;  "  is  the  proprietor 
in?" 

"  I  don't  know  whether  he  is  or  not.  Did  you 
want  anything  in  particular  ? "  said  my  dapper 
friend. 

"  Yes,  sir  ;  I  wish  to  see  him." 

"Jem,"  calling  out  to  a  boy  who  was  lounging 
in  the  back  part  of  the  store,  "  won't  you  see  if 

Mr.    is    in  ?     Here's    a  person  wants   to  see 

him." 

"  Jem "  departed  on  his  errand,  while  the 
gentlemanly  (?)  clerk  stood  watching  me  as  though 
he  suspected  I  intended  to  steal  something.  After 
a  time  he  came  leisurely  forward,  and,  in  a  drawl- 


THE    LIFE    OF    A    BOOK    AGENT.  217 

ing  tone,  informed  me  that  Mr.  would  see  me. 

Following  him  into  the  counting-room,  I  found 
myself  in  the  presence  of  a  fat,  pompous  old 
gentleman,  of  about  fifty  years  of  age,  some- 
what bald-headed,  and  wearing  enormous  gold 
spectacles. 

u  Good  morning,  madam,"  said  he,  very  pomp- 
ously ;  "  did  you  wish  to  see  me  ? " 

"  Yes,  sir.  I  am  in  search  of  employment.  Have 
you  any  plain  sewing  that  you  wish  done  ?  " 

"  Well,  yes,"  he  replied  slowly,  scanning  me 
closely  through  his  spectacles  ;  we  have  a  good 
deal  of  sewing  to  do ;  have  you  ever  sewed 
much?" 

"  Considerably,"  I  replied. 

"  Of  course  you  have  references  ;  let  me  look  at 
them." 

This  was  a  poser.  I  had,  as  the  reader  is  aware,, 
but  just  arrived  in  Chicago,  and  knew  not  a  single 
soul  there,  and  where  was  I  to  look  for  references  ? 
For  a  short  time  I  stood  silent  and  undecided 
what  to  say  or  do.  At  last  I  managed  to  falter 
out  that  I  had  but  just  come  to  Chicago,  was  a 
stranger,  etc.,  but  was  suddenly  interrupted  by 
my  pompous  friend  with — 

"  Well,  madam,  if  you  can  not  give  us  good  ref- 
erences, we  can  not  give  you  work.  We  never  em- 
ploy any  whom  we  do  not  know,  without  the  best 
of  references.  u  Jem,"  calling  the  boy  who  had 
conducted  me  thither,  "  show  this  lady  to  the 


218  THE    LIFE    OF    A    BOOK    AGENT. 

door,"  and,  waving  his  hand  with  a  lordly  air,  he 
dismissed  me  without  further  ceremony. 

This  was  the  result  of  my  first  eifort,  and  it  was 
far  from  reassuring  to  the  shrinking  spirit  with 
which  I  had  set  out.  For  a  time  my  heart  was 
full,  and  I  was  almost  tempted  to  return  to  my 
lodgings  and  make  no  further  attempts  that  day 
at  obtaining  employment.  But,  remembering  that 
my  financial  status  would  admit  of  no  sickly  sen- 
timentality, or  shrinking,  because  of  a  single  rebuff, 
I  once  more  set  out.  After  visiting  several  places 
without  meeting  with  any  success,  I  at  last  found 
myself  face  to  face  with  a  little  bullet  headed, 
hard-featured  wretch,  who,  when  I  made  my  errand 
known,  replied  briskly : 

"  Oh !  yes.  We  have  lots  of  work  to  do.  What 
do  you  prefer,  pants  or  plain  shirts  ?  " 

"  What  prices  do  you  pay  for  each  ?  " 

"  One  shilling  and  sixpence  for  pants,  such  as 
we  would  want  you  to  make,  and  two  shillings  for 
shirts.  How  many  will  you  have  ?  " 

"  What  prices  did  you  say,  sir?"  said  I  chok- 
ingly, for  the  idea  of  trying  to  earn  seven  dollars 
at  such  rates  as  these  filled  me  with  dismay. 

"  Eighteen  pence  for  pants  and  two  shillings  for 
shirts." 

"  But  how  do  you  expect  me  to  make  a  living  at 
at  those  prices?" 

"  That  is  not  our  look-out,  madam,"  he  replied 
heartlessly ;  "  those  are  our  prices,  and  if  you  do 
not  wish  to  work  for  them  you  can  go  elsewhere. 


THE   LIFE   OF   A    BOOK    AGENT.  219 

We  can  get  plenty  of  hands  to  sew  for  that.  What 
say  you  ?  Time  is  precious,"  said  he,  pulling  out 
and  glancing  at  a  large  and  showy-looking  gold 
watch,  filched,  no  doubt,  from  the  toil  of  sewing 
girls  to  whom  he  had  paid  the  magnificent  prices 
he  had  just  offered  me. 

"  Say  ?  "  I  replied  indignantly,  "  I  say  that  I 
will  sooner  starve  without  work  than  starve  at 
such  prices  as  you  offer." 

"  Just  as  you  please,  ma'am;  it  is  none  of  our 
business,  you  know,"  replied  he,  coolly,  and  I  went 
out  from  his  presence,  feeling  that  the  only  differ- 
ence between  him  and  the  Southern  slave-driver 
was,  that  this  man,  born  and  reared  in  the  North, 
was  much  the  worse  of  the  two.  They  both  be- 
lieved that  capital  should  own  labor,  but  while  the 
Southerner  would  make  slaves  of  his  inferiors,  and 
would  furnish  them  enough  to  eat  and  wear,  such 
as  it  was,  this  Northerner  would  subject  to  the 
most  galling  bondage  his  kinsmen  and  equals, 
arid  would  deny  them  the  miserable  pittance  suffi- 
cient to  keep  them  from  starvation  and  nakedness. 

But  why  weary  my  readers  with  detailed  ac- 
counts of  my  efforts  to  procure  employment,  at 
prices  which  would  enable  me  to  keep  the  gaunt 
wolf  of  starvation  from  my  door ;  the  wearisome 
search,  day  after  day,  until  my  heart  was  almost 
ready  to  sink  with  the  weight  of  despair  ;  the  cold, 
heartless,  sneering  rebuffs  and  repulses  which 
everywhere  met  me,  until  it  seemed  to  me  that  my 
brain  must  go  wild,  and  I  sink  into  the  abyss  of 


220  THE   LIFE   OF   A    BOOK   AGENT. 

shame  and  degradation  which  I  saw  around  me  on 
every  hand,  engulphing  thousands  of  those  whose 
lots  were  cast  in  the  same  mold  with  mine  ?  Suf- 
fice it  to  say  that  I  still  struggled  on,  vainly  hoping 
against  hope,  working  at  such  employment  as  I 
could  get,  even  at  starvation  prices,  until  at  last 
my  strength  failed  in  the  unequal  strife,  and  I  was 
prostrated  upon  a  bed  of  sickness,  from  which,  but 
for  the  sake  of  my  helpless  Carrie,  I  should  have 
prayed  that  I  might  never  rise. 

How  I  lived  through  that  long  night  of  sickness, 
among  strangers,  and  with  no  loving  friend  near 
me  to  bathe  my  fevered  brow  or  cool  my  parched 
lips,  or  even  to  administer  the  remedies  which  the 
physician  prescribed  for  me  from  time  to  time,  I 
hardly  know.  It  is  true,  my  landlady  was  kind  to 
me,  and  gave  me  all  the  attention  which  her  own 
household  and  other  duties  would  permit ;  but  she 
had  her  own  family  and  boarders  to  care  for,  and 
she  could  spare  but  little  of  her  time  for  me.  Long 
time  I  lingered  at  death's  door,  but  at  last  my 
constitution  triumphed,  and  I  began  slowly  to 
mend,  and  at  length  was  able  to  rise  and  walk 
about  my  room.  I  even  tried  to  do  some  work, 
but  when  I  bent  my  eyes  upon  my  sewing,  my 
brain  whirled  and  I  almost  fainted  from  sheer 
weakness,  and  when  my  physician  called  to  pay 
me  his  customary  visit,  he  found  me  with  a  very 
considerable  increase  of  fever. 

He  at  once  forbade,  most  peremptorily,  any 
further  attempts  at  work,  and,  instead,  ordered  me 


THE    LIFE    OF    A    BOOK    AGENT.  22^ 

to  take  exercise  in  walking,  extending,  however, 
my  promenades  no  farther  than  I  could  do  without 
incurring  too  much  fatigue.  At  first  my  strolls 
were  very  short — not  more  than  half  a  block — but 
my  strength  gradually  increased  under  this  treat- 
ment, arid  in  a  short  time  I  was  able  to  walk  half 
an  hour  without  any  great  weariness.  Oh  !  how  I 
longed  to  get  strong  and  able  to  renew  my  struggle 
with  the  world.  And,  indeed,  stern  necessity  de- 
manded it ;  for  during  my  long  illness  my  little 
treasury  had  entirely  dwindled  away,  and  I  had 
even  been  compelled  to  part  with  some  portions 
of  my  scanty  wardrobe  to  supply  the  necessities 
occasioned  by  sickness.  My  board,  too,  was  con- 
siderably in  arrears,  and  though  my  landlady  was 
very  kind,  and  never  alluded  to  the  matter,  this 
gave  me  no  little  uneasiness,  and  doubtless  con- 
tributed materially  to  retard  my  restoration  to 
strength.  But  relief  was  at  hand,  and  that,  too, 
from  a  source  of  which  I  did  not  dream. 

One  day,  as  I  was  taking  my  accustomed  walk, 
I  turned  a  corner  and  found  myself  face  to  face 
with  my  step -father,  Captain  Charles  Lake.  I  was 
so  filled  with  hysterical  joy  at  seeing  him  that,  for 
the  moment,  I  was  incapable  of  speech  or  action. 
Nor  was  his  surprise  at  the  meeting  less  than  my 
own,  although  less  visible  effect  was  produced  up- 
on him.  Coming  close  up  to  me  he  extended  his 
hand,  and  said : 

"  Minnie,  my  child,  is  this  indeed  you  ?  " 
"Yes,''  I  replied,  bursting  into  tears  of  joy,  for 


222  THE   LIFE    OF    A    BOOK    AGENT. 

I  saw  at  once  exemption  from  the  miseries  which 
had  so  sorely  weighed  me  down  ;  u  I  am,  indeed, 
your  wretched,  unhappy  daughter." 

"  Where  are  you  living?  "  he  continued  kindly. 
*'  You  look  as  though  you  had  been  sick." 

"  Indeed  I  have.  I  have  been  sick  both  in  body 
and  mind.  But,  come  home  with  me,  and  I  will 
tell  you  all  that  has  happened  since  I  left  Detroit." 

Drawing  my  arm  within  his  own,  the  Captain 
accompanied  me  home,  where  I  acquainted  him 
with  all  that  had  transpired,  and  with  which  the 
reader  is  already  familiar.  He  seemed  much 
moved  at  the  recital  of  my  sufferings,  and  at  its 
close,  said: 

"Poor  child!  you  have  had  a  hard  time,  but  it 
is  now  all-past.  You  must  go  home  with  me,  and 
Mary  shall  nurse  you  back  to  health  and  happi- 
ness again.  I  shall  be  ready  to  leave  the  city  to- 
morrow, and  in  the  meantime  you  must  get  ready 
to  go  with  me." 

But  at  this,  the  recollection  of  the  injustice  I 
had  done  her  flashed  across  my  mind  and  suffused 
my  face  with  a  crimson  glow,  and  I  at  once  replied 
that  I  could  not  think  of  going  there. 

"  Why  not?"  he  asked,  in  some  astonishment. 

And  then  I  told  him  that  I  had  done  Mary  a 
great  wrong,  and  in  no  event  could  I  go  there  to  be 
a  dependent  upon  her  bounty.  In  vain  he  urged 
me  to  go,  or  at  least  to  reveal  to  him  fully  the 
reasons  which  so  powerfully  deterred  me.  I  was 
well  aware  that  I  had  done  her  a  gross  injustice, 


THE   LIFE   OF   A   BOOK   AGENT. 

and  no  amount  of  persuasion  could  ever  have  in- 
duced me  to  open  to  him  the  subject  of  that  in- 
justice. When  he  found  that  I  was  not  to  be 
shaken,  he  said : 

"  Well,  I  will  not  insist  further.  You  will  at 
least  allow  me  to  make  provision  to  avoid  in  the 
future  such  suffering  as  you  have  been  subjected 
to  since  coming  here." 

To  this  I  consented,  of  course ;  and,  seating  him- 
self at  the  table,  he  drew  up  an  agreement  binding 
himself  to  pay  me  seventy-five  dollars  per  month,, 
and  a  letter  of  credit  authorizing  me  to  draw  upon 
his  bankers  at  Detroit  for  the  same,  which  he 
delivered  to  me,  then  called  my  landlady  and 
discharged  my  indebtedness  to  her  in  full,  after 
which  he  bid  me  an  affectionate  farewell,  and  I 
never  saw  him  more.  He,  like  the  rest  of  my 
friends,  has  passed  away,  but  the  memory  of  this 
deed  of  kindness  will  never  be  effaced  from  my 
recollection.  It  has  almost  entirely  obliterated 
from  my  mind  the  memory  of  the  great  wrong 
which  he  undeniably  did  to  me  in  my  childhood, 
and  I  fully  forgive  him  all. 

When  my  step-father  had  gone,  I  sat  down  and 
began  to  consider  what  was  best  for  me  to  do. 
I  did  not  intend  to  leave  Chicago,  for  I  must  live 
somewhere,  and  I  was  just  as  effectually  concealed 
from  the  pursuit  of  Mason  there  as  any  where> 
and  that  concealment  was  now  the  prime  con- 
sideration. I  finally  decided  to  try  keeping  house, 
believing  that  it  would  be  less  expensive  than 


224  THE   LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT. 

boarding,  and  I  would  feel  much  more  independent 
than  I  now  did. 

Accordingly  I  set  out  in  search  of  rooms  to  rent, 
Ibut  for  some  time  I  was  as  unsuccessful  as  in  pur- 
suit of  employment.  But,  after  some  days  spent 
in  search,  I  was  fortunate  enought  to  find  some 
rooms  to  let  on  the  second  floor  of  a  house*  at  No. 
51  West  Lake  street.  There  were  four  rooms — 
more  than  I  wanted,  and  the  rent  consequently 
higher  than  I  wished  to  pay ;  but  it  was  the  only 
opportunity  presented,  and  I  decided  to  take  them, 
thinking  perhaps  that  I  could  rent  one  or  two  of 
them,  or,  failing  in  that,  could  take  one  or  two 
boarders,  and  so  reduce  my  expenses  within  some- 
thing like  reasonable  limits.  I  drew  my  first  draft 
on  Detroit,  paid  my  rent  for  a  montTi  in  advance, 
and  on  the  eighteenth  day  of  November,  1865, 
took  possession  of  my  rooms,  and  advertised  for 
boarders. 

I  had  become  acquainted  with  a  young  lady  by 

the  name  of  Rosa ,  a  seamstress,  and  a  very 

lively,  intelligent  girl,  of  good  principles,  and  a 
very  agreeable  companion.  As  soon  as  she  knew 
I  was  taking  boarders,  she  came  to  apply  for  a 
place  with  me,  and  was  my  first  boarder.  Two 
young  gentlemen,  who  were  employed  in  a  store 
immediately  below  us,  applied,  and  were  received 
as  day  boarders;  others  also  made  application, 
and,  in  a  short  time,  I  had  all  the  boarders  that 
my  rooms  would  enable  me  to  accommodate,  and, 
for  a  time,  I  got  along  very  well  indeed.  But  my 


THE   LIFE   OF    A    BOOK    AGENT.  225 

unlucky  star  was  still  in  the  ascendant,  and  it  was 
in  this  boarding-house  that  I  found  some  acquain- 
tances who  were  doomed  to  exert  a  most  baneful 
influence  upon  my  future  life. 

The  first  was  a  man  by  the  name  of  Alvord. 
He  was  a  constable,  and  was  doing  some  business 
for  a  boarder  who  had  some  difficulty  with  a 
former  employer  about  a  balance  of  wages  due 
him.  He  called  several  times  to  see  him  on  this 
business,  much  to  my  disgust,  for  I  believed  he 
was  a  bad  man,  and  took  no  pains  to  conceal  my 
dislike  of  him.  This  aroused  his  ill-feeling  toward 
me,  and  when,  at  a  future  period,  an  opportunity 
was  presented  him  of  wiping  out  the  old  score,  he 
•did  not  hesitate  to  repay  me  with  interest. 

It  was  here,  too,  that  I  formed  the  acquaintance 
of  him  whose  name  I  now  bear — a  man  who,  with 
the  exception,  perhaps,  of  Mason,  has  caused  me 
more  suffering  than  any  other  one  with  whom  my 
checkered  life  has  brought  me  in  contact.  But  I 
reserve  for  another  chapter  an  account  of  the  in- 
cidents attending  our  introduction  and  subsequent 

acquaintance  and  marriage. 
'  15 


CHAPTER  XV. 

ONE  evening,  a  few  moments  before  tea-time,  a 
gentleman  called  in  answer  to  an  advertisement 
which  I  had  sent  to  one  of  the  Chicago  papers  for 
boarders  and  roomers.  He  was  very  polite  in  his 
manners,  and  of  genteel  appearance,  and  intro- 
duced himself  as  Mr.  Frank  C.  Ford.  I  was 
favorably  impressed  with  him  at  first  sight,  though, 
of  course,  not  the  slightest  thought  of  love  at  that 
•time  entered  my  mind.  I  only  looked  upon  him 
as  a  very  pleasant,  good-natured  and  sensible 
fellow,  though  he  appeared  very  quiet,  and  rather 
inclined  to  be  reserved,  as  he  really  was.  Little 
did  I  then  foresee,  or  even  anticipate  in  the  least 
degree,  the  sorrow  and  misery  to  me,  of  which  that 
man  was  to  be  the  author. 

He  staid  and  spent  the  evening  with  us,  and  a 
very  pleasant  evening  we  had.  There  were  Miss 
Rose  and  another  lady  boarder,  three  young  gentle- 
men, Mr.  Ford  and  myself.  All  were  in  good 
spirits,  and  the  hours  flew  by  unheeded  until 
eleven  o'clock  struck,  when  the  party  separated. 
I  invited  Mr.  Ford  to  call  again,  and  he  accepted 
the  invitation  with  thanks.  I  had  all  my  rooms 
rented. 

From  this  time  he  was  a  frequent  visitor  at  my 
house,  and  was  always  gladly  welcomed.  I  had 

(226) 


THE   LIFE    OF    A    BOOK    AGENT.  227 

made  inquiries  about  him,  and  learned  that  he 
bore  a  good  character,  and  was  considered  very 
respectable  in  the  community  in  which  he  lived — 
that  he  occupied  a  responsible  position  in  the  em- 
ploy of  the  street  railway  company,  and  was  sup- 
posed by  his  steadiness  and  prompt  attention  to 
duty  to  "be  accumulating  some  property,  while  he 
was  constantly  rising  in  the  estimation  and  confi- 
dence of  his  employers.  The  evidence  as  to  his 
character  was  certainly  satisfactory  in  the  highest 
degree,  and  he  was  soon  established  on  the  footing 
of  a  warm  and  valued  friend  at  the  house.  For  a 
long  time  his  visits,  though  frequent,  were  general, 
and  excited  no  remark — that  is,  no  one  of  the 
ladies  seemed  to  be  the  special  object  of  his  visit, 
or  to  receive  more  attention  from  him  than  an- 
other, nor  did  he  ever  inquire  for  one  more  than 
another. 

He  had  always  been  inclined  to  reticence  con- 
cerning himself  and  his  circumstances,  but  I  had 
learned  from  him  that  he  was  a  widower,  and  was 
still  keeping  house  in  the  same  place  where  he  had 
lived  with  his  former  wife.  When  he  told  me  this, 
I  asked  him  jestingly  if  he  kept  bachelor's  hall, 
and  told  him  Rosa  and  I  were  coming  around  to 
see  where  and  how  he  lived.  He  replied,  in  the 
same  light,  trifling  style,  that  nothing  would  afford 
him  more  pleasure  ;  that  he  did  not  live  alone,  but 
had  a  housekeeper,  but  that  she  did  very  poorly, 
and  we  would  not  find  the  house  a  very  attractive 
one.  But  while  we  thus  jested,  I  had  no  idea  of 


228  THE    LIFE   OF    A    BOOK    AGENT. 

ever  carrying  out  my  senseless  proposition — it  was 
only  made  in  a  spirit  of  playful  badinage,  and 
with  no  idea  of  its  ever  being  thought  of  again. 

I  was  therefore  not  a  little  surprised  when,  some 
days  after  the  conversation,  Rosa  proposed  that 
we  should  carry  out  our  promise,  and  visit  Mr. 
Ford  at  his  home.  I  asked  her  if  she  supposed  I 
was  in  earnest  when  the  proposition  was  made,  to 
which  she  replied  that  she  did  not  know  whether  I 
was  in  earnest  or  not ;  that  she  was,  and  that  she 
had  determined  to  go  that  very  afternoon,  and  that 
she  would  have  no  excuse,  but  I  must  go  with  her. 
I  asked  her  if  she  thought  it  was  exactly  proper 
for  us  to  visit  a  gentleman  at  his  lodgings,  to 
which  she  answered  that  it  was  altogether  differ- 
ent from  that ;  that  we  were  not  going  to  visit  a 
gentleman  at  his  lodgings,  but  at  his  house,  pre- 
sided over,  as  he  had  informed  us,  by  a  lady  who 
was  his  housekeeper,  and  that  there  would  be  no 
impropriety  in  our  doing  so ;  that  go  she  would,  and 
go  with  her  I  must.  I  advanced  numerous  other 
objections  but  without  avail ;  she  overruled  them 
all,  and  insisted  so  strongly  that  I  was  finally 
silenced,  if  not  convinced,  and  against  my  better 
judgment  consented  to  accompany  her.  Beside,  if 
the  truth  must  be  confessed,  I  felt  a  little  anxiety 
to  follow  the  matter  out  to  the  end,  and  see  what 
was  to  be  seen  ;  and,  accordingly,  after  dinner  we 
equipped  ourselves  for  walking  and  set  out.  It 
must  be  admitted  to  the  reader,  though  we  did  not 
at  the  time  mention  it  to  each  other,  that  we  both 


THE   LIFE   OF    A    BOOK    AGENT*  229 

had  some  secret  misgivings  as  to  the  course  we 
were  pursuing,  but  we  were  both  animated  by  the 
spirit  of  fun  and  adventure,  and  were  resolved  to 
follow  it  out  to  the  end.  I  omitted  to  mention,  in 
the  proper  place,  that  Ford  had  told  us  he  had 
three  children  by  his  first  wife,  only  one  of  whom, 
however,  lived  with  him. 

Well,  we  went  to  the  house  where  he  had  in- 
formed us  he  lived.  We  found  a  store  in  the  front 
part  of  the  house,  went  to  the  rear,  which  appear- 
ed to  be  finished  as  a  dwelling-house,  and  knocked 
at  the  door,  but  received  no  answer.  The  only 
sign  of  life  was  a  little  dog  inside,  barking  most 
furiously  at  what  he  evidently  deemed  an  attempt- 
ed intrusion  upon  the  premises  which  he  had  been 
left  to  guard.  We  then  went  to  the  place  where 
Mr.  Ford  worked,  and  were  there  told  that  he  had 
just  gone  to  the  house.  Again  we  returned  to  the 
house,  and  still  finding  nobody  there,  we  went  to 
the  store  in  front,  and  inquired  if  there  was  a  man, 
by  the  'name  of  Ford  living  in  that  neighborhood, 
and  were  informed  that  he  lived  in  the  rear  of  thafc 
building.  We  then  inquired  how  many  there  were 
in  his  family.  They  replied  they  did  not  know, 
but  that,  when  he  rented  the  house,  he  mentioned, 
incidentally,  that  he  was  going  to  occupy  it  with 
his  wife. 

By  the  time  we  had  finished  our  inquiries,  Mr. 
Ford  came  up,  and  we  at  once  accosted  him,  ask- 
ing about  his  own  health  and  that  of  his  wife,  tell- 
ing him  we  heard  she  had  just  gone  down  in  town, 


230  THE   LIFE   OF    A   BOOK    AGENT. 

etc.  There  was  a  lady  just  crossing  the  street  in 
front  of  the  store,  and  he  called  our  attention  to 
her,  telling  us  there  she  came ;  and,  as  soon  as  she 
unlocked  the  house,  he  would  go  in  with  us  and 
give  us  an  introduction  to  her.  We  accordingly 
went  in  with  him,  and  were  introduced  to  the  lady, 
but  not  as  Mrs.  Ford ;  he  called  her  Miss  Carney, 
and  informed  us  she  was  his  housekeeper. 

We  staid  some  time,  and  had  a  very  pleasant 
visit,  for  Miss  Carney  could  be  very  interesting 
and  pleasant  when  she  chose ;  and  that  afternoon 
she  seemed  to  take  special  pains  to  make  herself 
agreeable.  She  was  then  in  good  humor,  and  did 
all  in  her  power  to  entertain  us  in  the  most  lady- 
like manner.  I  afterwards  knew,  to  my  sorrow, 
how  differently  she  could  act  toward  one  whom 
she  regarded  as  an  enemy,  as  will  more  fully  ap- 
pear in  the  sequel  of  my  story. 

At  length  I  decided  it  was  time  for  us  to  go,  and 
said  as  much  to  Rosa,  to  which  she  assented,  and 
we  rose  to  take  our  departure.  Miss  Carney  pro- 
tested against  our  going,  and  urged  us,  very  earn- 
estly, to  stay  to  tea  ;  but  we  refused,  and  were 
soon  on  our  way  home.  Mr.  Ford  accompanied 
us ;  and,  when  we  reached  home,  he  went  in,  took 
tea,  and  afterward  spent  the  evening  with  us.  This 
was,  to  me,  a  fatal  evening,  for  it  was  the  one  up- 
on which  I  gave  up  to  Frank  C.  Ford  my  freedom, 
my  individuality,  and  upon  which  I  once  more 
agreed  to  take  upon  myself  the  fearful  duties  and 
responsibilities  of  married  life.  It  was  upon  this 


THE   LIFE  OP   A   BOOK   AGENT.  231 

evening  that  I  entered  into  a  contract  of  marriage 
which  was  to  fill  to  overflowing  my  cup  of  misery. 

I  had  now  been  acquainted  with  Frank  C.  Ford 
for  several  months,  a::d  had  seen  nothing  to  in- 
dicate that  he  was  the  monster  he  afterward  turned 
out  to  be — nay,  now,  I  will  confess  that  his  kind 
and  genial  disposition,  his  (as  I  supposed)  steady 
character  and  correct  habits,  had  awakened  feel- 
ings in  my  bosom  which  I  supposed  would  never 
exist  there  again,  and  I  already  regarded  him  with 
more  of  favor  than  I  usually  bestowed  upon  my 
friends.  I  will  not  admit  that  I  really  loved  him 
at  this  time,  but  I  thought  very  kindly  of  him ; 
and  though  he  never  said  anything,  or  indicated 
any  marked  preference  for  me,  yet  I  knew,  by  some 
sort  of  intuition — by  that  instinctive  feeling  that 
pervades  a  woman's  bosom — that  he  thought  more 
of  me  than  he  did  of  either  of  the  other  ladies  at 
the  house.  He  had  never  called  to  see  me  more 
than  any  one  else  ;  he  had  never  inquired  particu- 
larly for  me ;  he  had  never  specially  sought  my 
society  at  the  house,  and  yet  I  knew,  in  some  in- 
definable way,  that  I  was  dearer  to  him  than  either 
of  the  others. 

I  was  not,  therefore,  very  much  surprised  when, 
seizing  a  favorable  opportunity,  he  asked  me  to  be 
his  wife.  He  recalled  the  circumstances  of  our 
acquaintance ;  told  how  lonely  he  had  felt  since 
the  death  of  his  first  wife ;  how  his  home  needed 
the  watchful  care  of  one  whose  interests  were 
identified  with  his ;  how  he  had  watched  and 


232  THE   LIFE    OF   A    BOOK    AGENT. 

studied  my  character;  how  he  thought  we  could 
be  happy  together,  and  begged  me  to  take  pity  on 
his  loneliness  and  make  him  blessed  by  becoming 
his  wife. 

I  said  I  was  not  suprised,  but,  to  some  extent,  I 
was  ;  for,  though  I  felt  very  confident  such  a  pro- 
position would  some  time  be  made,  still  it  was  un- 
expected at  this  time,  and  my  answer  was  riot 
ready.  I  therefore  pleaded  surprise,  and  begged 
time  to  consider  of  the  matter  before  giving  him  a 
decided  answer  to  a  question  of  such  tremendous 
importance.  He  acceded  to  this,  and  we  parted 
for  the  night.  I  did  not  tell  Rosa,  with  whom  I 
slept,  of  the  proposition  which  had  been  made  to 
me,  but  chose  to  keep  it  within  my  own  breast 
until  I  had  finally  decided  upon  it,  although  there 
remained  in  my  own  mind  but  little  doubt  that  it 
would  be  finally  accepted.  But  I  had  once  accepted 
such  a  proposition  in  haste,  and  the  result  had 
been  the  most  unmitigated  woe,  and  I  was  now 
determined  to  deliberate  well  before  acting ;  and 
yet  all  my  deliberation  was  in  vain,  as  subse- 
quent events  will  show. 

Ford  was  to  come  at  the  end  of  the  week  for  his 
final  answer.  I  was  alone  in  the  world ;  for 
Captain  Lake  had  taken  Carrie  and  sent  her  to  a 
sister  of  his  in  New  Orleans  who  was  rich  and 
would  raise  her  like  a  lady,  and  I  had  nothing  to 
care  for  except  two  little  canary  birds.  Why  not 
marry  him  and  end  all  my  troubles  for  this  life  at 
once  ?  Besides,  it  was  not  my  nature  to  be  alone 


THE    LIFE    OF    A    BOOK    AGENT.  233 

in  the  world ;  I  was  so  constituted  that  I  must 
have  somebody  to  love  ;  some  one  toward  whom 
the  love  of  my  heart  would  go  out  like  a  mighty, 
rushing  torrent,  and  why  not  him  ?  I  was  sure  I 
loved  him  more  than  I  loved  Giles  (or  Mason)  when 
I  married  him,  and  surely  I  had  seen  some  happy 
days  in  my  married  life  (for  so  I  persisted  in  call- 
ing it)  with  him  before  my  peace  was  all  destroyed 
by  the  evidence  of  his  unworthiness ;  and  I 
thought  it  was  reasonably  certain  that  the  same 
cause  for  unhappiness  did  not  exist  in  the  case  of 
Mr.  Ford. 

But  then,  on  the  other  hand,  I  thought  I  would 
never  marry  again ;  my  past  experience  had  not 
favorably  impressed  me  with  the  joys  of  married 
life,  and  I  hesitated  before  entering  into  that  state 
again.  Besides,  if  I  married  Ford  or  any  one  else 
the  seventy-five  dollars  which  Captain  Lake  had 
kindly  settled  upon  me,  monthly,  would  end,  and 
would  the  sacrifice  pay  me  ? 

But  why  recount  all  my  cogitations  upon  this 
point.  Such  reflections  ever  have  but  one  end,  and 
hence  the  reader  will  not  be  surprised  to  learn 
that  when  Mr.  Ford  came  for  his  final  answer,  I 
laid  my  hand  in  his  and  promised  him  that,  God 
being  my  helper,  I  would  be  to  him  a  true  and 
faithful  wife  so  long  as  we  both  should  live.  And 
to  this  day,  I  call  high  heaven  to  witness  that  I 
kept  faithfully  the  vow  until  his  tyranny  and 
brutality  drove  me  from  home  and  placed  it  out  of 
my  power  to  keep  it  any  longer. 


234  THE   LIFE   OF   A    BOOK   AGENT. 

There  was  one  thing  in  connection  with  our  en- 
gagement in  which  my  conscience  does  not  acquit 
me  of  all  blame,  and  that  was  in  relation  to  the 
dark  and  gloomy  scenes  in  my  past  life  and  his- 
tory. I  did  not  impart  them  to  him.  It  may  be 
possible  that,  had  I  done  so,  it  would  have  spared 
us  both  some  trouble  in  the  future,  but  I  could  not 
bring  myself  to  speak  of  it.  I  knew  I  had  married 
Giles  in  good  faith  and  I  was  not  to  blame  if  he 
had  a  wife  living  when  he  married  me.  And  I  left 
him  as  soon  as  I  knew  it.  I  did  not  think  it  neces- 
sary to  tell  Ford  this.  And  here  was  committed 
one  of  the  worst  errors  of  my  life.  Far  better  for 
me  had  the  revelation  been  made  before  our  en- 
gagement was  consummated,  and  trusted  to  his 
affection  for  me  to  overcome  the  effects  of  such  a 
sad  recital  as  mine,  than  to  leave  him  to  learn  it 
in  an  exaggerated  and  distorted  form  from  another 
source,  while  to  the  intrinsic  evil  of  the  story, 
would  be  added,  in  his  mind,  the  reflection  that  I 
had  deceived  him.  The  fullest  and  freest  confi- 
dence should  be  maintained  between  affianced 
lovers  at  all  times ;  just  as  full  and  complete  as 
that  which  should  exist  between  husband  and 
wife.  Nay,  I  insist  that  wedded  love  will  tolerate 
even  more  concealment  than  will  simply  plighted 
faith ;  because,  while  the  first  is  prone  to  create 
the  most  unbounded  confidence,  the  last  is  prover- 
bial for  its  suspicion  and  its  jealousy.  How  im- 
portant, then,  is  it  that  in  no  case  any  conceal- 
ments be  suffered  to  exist  during  the  engagement, 


THE   LIFE    OF   A    BOOK    AGENT.  235 

if  we  would  avoid  misery  and  woe  during  the 
wedded  life  which  is  to  insue.  But  I  did  not  then 
practice  upon  this  principle,  and  to  this  cause  may 
be  attributed  no  small  portion  of  my  subsequent 
sorrow. 

I  have  not  told  the  reader  anything  about  the 
family  of  my  betrothed,  and  will  now  turn  for  a 
short  time  to  them.  His  father  had  been  dead 
some  time,  but  he  had  a  mother  and  several  brothers 
living  at  Waukegan,  of  whom  he  had  frequently 
spoken,  but  none  of  whom  I  had  ever  seen.  He 
also  had  two  married  sisters  living  in  Chicago, 
one  of  whom  I  had  seen  at  the  time  we  plighted  our 
faith  to  each  other,  but  the  other  I  had  not.  The 
first  one  lived  on  Milwaukee  avenue,  and  Frank 
and  I  had  spent  one  evening  there  ;  the  other  I 
had  not  met.  I  liked  this  one  very  well.  Frank 
had  three  c  hildren,  the  youngest  of  whom  he  told 
me,  much  to  my  surprise,  was  thirteen  years  old, 
while  the  others  were  old  enough  to  care  for  them- 
selves. He  was  older  than  I  had  supposed,  being 
at  this  time  more  than  forty  years  of  age,  though 
he  did  not  really  appear  to  be  more  than  thirty- 
five  at  the  most. 

Soon  after  our  betrothal,  Frank  invited  me  to  go 
with  him  to  spend  the  evening  at  the  house  of  Mrs. 
Spalding,  the  other  sister  of  whom  I  have  before 
spoken,  saying: 

"  You  know  she  will  soon  be  your  sister,  and 
it  is  not  becoming  to  have  a  sister  whom  you  do 
not  know/' 


236  THE    LIFE   OF   A   BOOK    AGENT. 

I  accordingly  went  with  him  to  visit  her.  We 
passed  rather  a  pleasant  evening,  though  it  must 
be  confessed  I  did  not  like  her  as  well  as  I  did 
her  sister.  There  was  something  in  her  manners, 
impossible  to  be  described,  but  which  was  very 
displeasing  to  me.  It  was  not  pride,  or  ill-nature, 
nor  could  I  say  what  it  was ;  'but  there  was  that 
sort  of  distinctive  dislike  which  we  sometimes  feel 
toward  a  person,  and  for  which  we  are  unable  to 
account,  even  to  ourselves. 

"  I  do  not  like  you,  Dr.  Fell ; 

The  reason  why  I  can  not  tell ; 
But  this  I  know  full  well, 
I  do  not  like  you,  Dr.  Fell." 

And  yet  she  was  a  good,  kind-hearted  woman, 
and  when  I  afterward  had  occasion  to  test  her 
goodness  of  heart  and  disposition,  I  found  that  I 
could  rely  upon  her  with  the  confident  assurance 
that  she  would  not  disappoint  me. 

When  the  evening,  was  ended,  and  we  started 
away,  Mrs.  Spalding  urged  me  very  earnestly  to 
come  and  see  her  again,  saying,  in  a  voice  and 
manner  which  convinced  me  that  she  knew  of  the 
relationship  between  Frank  and  myself,  that  "  we 
must  get  to  be  very  good  friends  indeed."  This 
was  the  only  allusion  that  was,  at  any  time  during 
the  evening,  made  to  our  engagement.  Frank 
accompanied  me  to  the  foot  of  the  stairs  leading 
to  my  own  home,  and  there  bid  me  good  night, 
promising  to  call  and  see  me  the  next  evening. 
The  next  evening  came,  but  he  did  not,  I  was 


THE   LIFE   OF   A    BOOK    AGENT.  237 

sadly  disappointed  at  even  this  trifling  affair,  and 
really  felt  as  if  he  had  slighted  me,  merely  be- 
cause he  for  once  failed  to  keep  his  promise  to  meet 
me,  and,  could  I  have  seen  him  then,  don't  know 
what  I  might  have  said  to  him.  He  had  already 
become  dearer  to  me  than  I  thought,  and  I  was 
jealous  of  even  any  appearance  of  neglect. 

The  next  evening  he  came,  and,  ah  !  how  swiftly 
the  hours  flew  by  in  his  society.  We  were  both 
so  happy  that  we  took  no  note  of  passing  time, 
and  when  he  looked  at  his  watch  and  declared 
that  it  was  almost  twelve  o'clock,  words  could 
hardly  express  our  mutual  surprise.  It  did  not 
really  seem  to  me  that  it  could  be  more  than  nine, 
and  it  was  only  when  I  consulted  my  own  watch, 
and  found  that  the  small  hours  were  indeed  ap- 
proaching, that  I  could  be  Convinced  that  his  time 
was  not  too  fast. 

"  Well,"  said  he,  "  the  last  car  is  gone,  and  I 
shall  have  to  walk  home.  But  never  mind,  the 
time  will  soon  come  when  we  will  not  part  at  all." 

After  this  he  spent  nearly  all  his  evenings  with 
me,  and  the  scene  just  detailed  was  often  repeated. 
How  happy  we  were.  But  during  all  this  time  I 
€ould  not  help  feeling  a  sort  of  vague  uneasiness, 
a  dim,  indefinable  dread  of  the  future,  and  I  trem- 
bled inwardly  lest  our  happiness  should  pass  away 
forever.  It  may  be  that  it  was  because  I  had  seen 
so  much  of  sorrow,  and  so  little  genuine,  unalloyed 
happiness  in  my  past  life,  that  I  felt  so  insecure  in 
this.  And  of  a  truth,  my  past  experience  had  been 


238  THE   LIFE   OF    A    BOOK    AGENT. 

such  as  to  render  me  suspicious  arid  distrustful  to 
a  degree.  How  often  had  I  seen  myself  raised  to 
the  highest  pitch  of  happiness,  only  to  be  in  the 
next  moment,  as  it  were,  precipitated  from  my 
pinnacle  of  joy  to  the  very  lowest  depths  of  the 
abyss  of  misery  and  pain.  And  is  it  strange  that 
I  should  have  trembled  in  view  of  the  possibility 
of  a  repetition  of  my  past  sad  experience  ?  And 
hence  it  was  that  my  jealous  love  was  ever  sug- 
gesting doubts  as  to  the  future.  Would  he  always 
love  me  as  now?  Would  he  ever  enjoy,  as  now, 
the  evenings  spent  in  my  society  ?  or  would  that 
love  of  his,  which  now  seemed  so  ardent,  in  time 
wither  and  fade  away,  and  I  be  left  alone,  a  miser- 
able and  neglected  wife  ?  And  then  my  own  deep 
love,  and  my  confidence  in  him,  would  whisper 
that  it  could  not  be  ;  that  his  affection  was  true, 
even  as  my  own ;  that  our  devotion  to  each  other 
could  never  know  any  change,  and  that,  hand  in 
hand,  we  would  travel  adown  the  vale  of  life 
together,  and  our  destinies  be  separated  only  by 
the  dark  rolling  stream  of  death.  Could  I  have 
imagined  what  less  than  a  twelvemonth  would 
bring  forth,  how  gladly  would  I  have  laid  down 
and  died  ere  linking  my  fate  with  him  whom  I 
now  so  fondly  loved. 

As  our  wedding-day  approached  I  began  to 
make  preparations  for  its  celebration.  I  adver- 
tised my  rooms  "  to  let,"  and  my  furniture  "  for 
sale,"  and  in  a  short  time  had  an  application  from 
a  newly-married  couple,  and  sold  out  to  them. 


THE   LIFE   OF   A    BOOK    AGENT.  239 

They  desired  to  take  immediate  possession,  and  I 
agreed  to  allow  them  to  do  so,  they  boarding  me 
until  the  wedding-day.  When  married,  Frank  and 
I  were  going  to  Waukegan,  to  visit  his  mother  and 
brothers  there,  after  which  we  were  to  return  to 
Chicago  and  go  to  keeping  house,  living  for  the 
present  at  least,  in  the  same  house  he  now  occu- 
pied. This  was  our  programme,  but,  like  all  other 
programmes  of  merely  human  beings,  it  was  liable 
to  fail  in  some  particulars.  And  in  this  particular 
case  it  was  not  to  be  fulfilled,  at  least  until  after 
intense  sorrow  and  trouble  to  one  of  the  parties 
concerned. 

But  I  will  close  this  chapter  here,  and  in  my 
next,  give  come  account  of  the  events  preceding 
my  marriage,  and  immediately  following  it — events 
which  gave  me  a  new  insight  into  the  character  of 
Frank  C.  Ford,  and  led  me,  even  at  that  early  day, 
to  almost  regret  the  step  which  had  bound  me  to 
him,  and  placed  me  in  his  power. 


CHAPTER    XVI. 

TIME  had  rolled  away  until  but  a  few  days  in- 
tervened between  us  and  the  day  which  was  to 
witness  our  marriage,  when  suddenly  Mr.  Ford 
discontinued  his  visits.  Up  to  this  time  he  had 
been  in  the  habit  of  calling  on  me  almost  every 
day,  and  I  could  imagine  no  reason  for  the  sudden 
change.  At  first  I  thought  nothing  of  it,  but  when 
three  or  four  days  passed  away  and  he  came  not, 
I  began  to  feel  uneasy,  for  it  was  something  which 
had  never  occurred  since  our  engagement.  Accord- 
ingly, I  sent  him  a  note  asking  him  to  call  and  see 
me  at  a  particular  time  therein  mentioned. 

He  came,  but  oh !  how  changed  he  was.  He  was 
no  longer  the  same  man,  but  briefly  a,nd  coldly  he 
saluted  me,  and,  without  noticing  the  chair  I  offer- 
ed him,  he  remained  standing,  and  apparently 
waited  for  me  to  address  him,  which  I  did  in  a 
quivering  voice,  for  my  heart  was  full. 

"Frank,"  said  I,  "  for  heaven's  sake,  what  is  the 
matter?" 

"Bo  you  know  Charles  Alvord? "  he  asked. 

"  Yes,"  said  I ;  "  what  of  him  ?  "  for  I  knew  Mm 
to  be  a  man  who  was  capable  of  anything,  and  my 
heart  misgave  me  as  soon  as  he  pronounced  that 
name. 

Ford  then  went  on  to  tell  me  that  Alvord  had 

(240) 


THE   LIFE   OF   A    BOOK    AGENT.  241 

been  to  him  and  told  him  that  he  understood  he 
was  going  to  marry  me,  and  he  felt  it  his  duty  to 
warn  him  against  me ;  that  if  he  married  me  he 
would  be  sorry  for  it,  and  that  he  had  better  break 
off  with  me  while  there  was  yet  time. 

As  I  heard  these  cruel  words,  I  sunk  upon  the 
sofa  utterly  overcome  by  the  violence  of  my  emo- 
tions. What  had  I  ever  done  to  this  man,  that  he 
should  attempt  to  destroy  me  in  this  manner?  I 
had  never  harmed  him  or  said  aught  against  him 
in  any  way,  and  why  he  should  seek  to  injure  me 
was  past  my  comprehension. 

These  reflections  passed  through  my  mind  as  I 
lay  upon  the  sofa,  but  I  could  not  answer  him  a 
word,  and  it  was  only  when  he  asked  me,  after  a 
long  period  of  silence,  what  I  had  to  say,  that  I 
found  language  to  answer  him.  I  then  told  him 
the  truth  with  regard  to  the  past,  with  which  the 
reader  is  already  acquainted,  gave  him  my  reasons 
for  not  telling  him  before,  and  wound  up  by  say- 
ing that  we  had  better  not  marry,  and  that  I  did 
not  wish  to  marry  him  unless  we  could  live  happi- 
ly together.  As  I  said  this,  he  turned  on  his  heel, 
and  saying,  "  Good  night,  if  that  is  your  answer," 
he  started  to  leave  the  room. 

I  had  never  done  anything  to  disgrace  my  char- 
acter. But  I  could  not  let  him  go  thus.  To  part 
in  this  way  would  kill  me,  for  I  loved  him  more 
than  my  own  life,  and  I  could  not  have  felt  worse 
had  he  plunged  a  knife  in  my  bosom.  I  told  him 
that  I  was  not  to  blame  for  the  past,  if  he  would 

16 


242  THE    LIFE    OF   A    BOOK    AGENT. 

trust  me,  lie  would  find  rne  a  true  wife ;  that  I 
would  endure  suffering,  starvation,  and  even  death 
in  the  midst  of  poverty,  before  I  would  prove  false 
to  him ;  that  I  would  not  marry  him  to  make  him 
miserable,  but  if  he  would  only  give  me  his  love, 
I  could  and  would  endure  anything  in  the  world. 
To  this  appeal  he  only  responded  "  Good  night," 
left  the  room,  and  closed  the  door  behind  him. 

Once  outside  the  door,  however,  he  seemed  to 
relent,  and  I  listened  in  vain  for  the  sound  of  his 
footsteps  descending  the  stairs.  It  would,  perhaps, 
have  been  better  for  both  if  he  had  gone,  but  he 
did  not.  I  sat  and  listened  some  time,  and  then 
arose,  went  to  the  door  and  opened  it.  He  was 
standing  on  the  threshold,  and  as  I  opened  the 
door  he  stepped  inside,  took  my  hand  in  his,  and 
led  me  to  the  sofa,  where,  seating  me,  he  placed 
himself  by  my  side. 

" Forgive  me,"  said  he .  "I  was  wrong  and  hasty 
just  now.  But  forgive  and  forget;  and  let  us  be 
married  as  though  nothing  unpleasant  had  ever 
occurred  between  us." 

"  I  forgive  you  freely,"  said  I ;  "  but  answer  me 
one  thing.  If  we  are  married,  now  that  you  know 
all  the  sad  past,  will  you  ever  throw -it  up  to  me, 
or  taunt  me  with  my  errors  of  by-gone  days  ? 
Promise  me  that  you  will  not  do  this,  let  what  may 
arise." 

His  answer  to  this  request  I  can  never  forget. 
It  is  engraved  on  my  heart  in  characters  of  living 
fire.  It  was : 


THE    LIFE    OF   A    BOOK    AGENT.  243 

"Minnie,  I  do  not  blame  you,  for  yon  did  think 
you  was  his  wife,  and  if  I  married  you,  I  would 
never  cast  up  anything  to  you.  Nay,  more,  if  I 
married  you  under  such  circumstances,  I  would 
live  with  you,  and  treat  you  kindly,  so  long  as 
you  were  a  true  and  faithful  wife  to  me  after  our 


marriage." 


This  allusion  was  to  my  marriage  with  Giles. 
We  were  married  in  a  few  days  after  this  conver- 
sation. God  is  my  witness,  that  in  word,  thought 
and  deed,  I  was  a  true  and  faithful  wife  to  him ; 
and  how  he  redeemed  the  solemn  promise  just  re- 
corded, let  the  future  tell.  May  God  forgive  him, 
as  I  do,  for  the  black  and  soul-killing  perjury  of 
which  he  has  been  guilty  in  this  respect. 

Our  wedding  was  set  for  the  sixth  day  of  Feb- 
ruary, 1866.  We  were  to  be  married  at  two 
o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  at  the  Baptist  church, 
corner  of  Morgan  and  Monroe  Streets,  by  Rev. 
Edgar  J.  Goodspead,  pastor  of  that  church.  I  was 
just  trying  on  my  wedding-dress,  before  breakfast, 
in  the  morning,  when  there  was  a  rap  at  the  door 
at  the  head  of  the  stairs.  Mrs.  Singer,  the  lady 
with  whom  I  boarded,  opened  the  door.  There 
stood  a  girl,  who  inquired  for  Mrs.  Mason.  Sup- 
posing it  to  be  one  whom  my  dress-maker  had  sent 
on  an  errand,  I  stepped  forward,  when  she  handed 
me  a  letter,  and  immediately  turned  and  disap- 
peared down  stairs.  I  called  after  her,  but  she 
went  on  without  paying  any  heed  to  me. 

I  hardly  knew  what  to  make  of  this  ;  but,  with- 


244  THE    LIFE    OF   A    BOOK    AGEJtfT. 

out  wasting  any  time  in  vain  conjectures,  at  once 
opened  the  letter.  It  was  a  sheet  of  foolscap 
paper ;  all  four  of  the  pages  were  written  full,  in  a 
strange  hand,  and  I  could  not  imagine  who  should 
be  writing  to  me,  or  why.  But  I  had  not  read  far 
until  I  understood  what  the  writer  was  driving  at ; 
for  it  was  tilled  with  such  vile  and  disgusting  lan- 
guage as  is  seldom  used  by  a  woman.  I  can  not 
give  any  portion  of  its  contents  ;  they  were  unsuit- 
able for  publication.  Suffice  it  to  say  it  was 
written  by  Angeline  Carney,  Mr.  Ford's  house- 
keeper, and,  if  true,  revealed  a  state  of  depravity, 
on  his  part,  almost  too  shocking  to  be  believed. 

I  knew  not  what  to  do  or  think.  If  the  charges 
contained  in  this  letter  were  true,  he  was  not  the 
man  to  whom  I  could  entrust  my  honor  and  happi- 
ness ;  if  they  were  not  true,  he  ought  to  have  a 
chance  to  explain  them  away.  True,  I  did  not  be- 
lieve them ;  but  still  every  word  might  possibly 
be  true :  and,  if  so,  I  ought  to  know  it  before  it 
was  too  late.  I  had  no  one  to  whom  I  could  con- 
fide the  matter,  and,  hence,  no  one  to  advise  me 
how  to  act.  But  it  was  near  nine  o'clock  of  our 
wedding-day,  and  something  must  be  done,  and 
that  quickly.  I  hastily  put  on  my  bonnet  and 
shawl,  took  a  street  car,  and  was  soon  at  Mr. 
Ford's  place  of  business.  Arrived  there,  I  was 
told  he  had  gone  to  the  house,  and  at  once  sent  a 
man  there  to  tell  him  to  meet  me  on  the  next 
corner,  where  I  would  wait  until  he  came  up ;  for  I 


THE    LIFE    OF    A    BOOK    AGENT.  245 

was  resolved  I  would  not  marry  him  until  that 
matter  was  explained  to  my  satisfaction. 

I  had  not  long  to  wait.  My  messenger  had 
barely  reached  the  house,  when  I  saw  him  and 
Ford  coming  out  of  the  yard.  Frank  came  up  to 
where  I  was  standing,  and,  in  a  voice  of  some  con- 
cern, asked  what  was  the  matter.  I  replied  by 
placing  the  scurrilous  letter  in  his  hand,  and  ask- 
ing him  to  explain  what  it  all  meant.  He  read  it 
through,  without  a  word ;  and,  then,  handing  it 
back  to  me,  said  Angeline  was  angry  because  he 
was  going  to  get  married,  and  thus  throw  her  out 
of  a  place ;  that  she  had  a  violent  temper,  and 
would  do  anything  she  could  to  accomplish  her 
ends.  As  for  the  scandalous  letter :  he  said,  most 
emphatically,  that  there  was  not  a  word  of  truth  in 
it ;  that  it  was  only  a  part  of  her  programme  to 
break  up  the  marriage,  and  urged  me  to  pay  no 
attention  to  it  whatever.  .„  He  further  told  me,  that 
she  would  be  sent  away  that  very  day,  and  that  he 
had  employed  a  German  girl  to  clean  up  the  house 
and  take  charge  of  it  till  our  return  from  our  trip 
to  Waukegan ;  after  which,  he  observed,  it  would 
be  in  my  care. 

His  explanation  did  not  fully  satisfy  me,  and  I 
said  as  much  to  him  and  expressed  my  determina- 
tion to  go  to  the  house  to  see  her,  and  learn  from 
her  own  lips  what  they  were  to  each  other.  I 
told  him  we  could  never  be  married  until  this 
matter  was  cleared  up  to  my  entire  satisfaction. 

He    thereupon   called   a   young   man    from  the 


246  THE   LIFE    OF    A    BOOK    AGENT. 

house,  introduced  him  to  me  as  his  son  Wallace, 
and  referred  me  to  him  for  the  truth  of  what  he 
had  said.  I  showed  him  the  letter  and  asked  him 
if  he  knew  anything  of  it.  He  replied,  after  look- 
it  over,  that  Angeline  Carney,  his  father's  house- 
keeper, had  written  it  and  had  told  him  about  it 
after  she  had  sent  it,  and  gave  the  same  explana- 
tion of  the  motives  which  had  prompted  it  as  his 
father  had  already  given.  He  also  added  that 
Angeline  was  very  angry,  and  would  be  sorry 
for  what  she  had  done  as  soon  as  she  had  time 
to  reflect  a  little.  But  all  this  was  not  satisfac- 
tory to  me,  and  I  expressed  my  determination  to 
go  to  the  house  and  see  her  about  it,  and  hear 
what  she  had  to  say,  and  accordingly  started  in 
that  direction,  Mr.  Ford  went  with  me,  and 
Wallace  went  on  before  to  tell  her  we  were 
coming. 

When  we  reached  the  house  I  went  at  once  into 
the  bed  room.  Miss  Carney  sat  there  crying  as 
if  her  heart  would  break.  I  asked  her  at  once  why 
she  had  written  me  such  a  letter  as  that,  and  she 
replied  that  she  had  done  it  because  she  was 
angry,  and  wanted  to  break  up  the  match.  She 
did  not  say  it  was  not  true,  but  only  left  that  to 
be  inferred  by  saying  she  had  written  it  because 
she  wanted  to  make  trouble,  and  break  up  the 
marriage  if  possible. 

I  decided  in  my  own  mind  that,  dearly  as  I  loved 
Ford,  I  would  not  dare  to  trust  my  happiness  in 
his  keeping,  and  walked  out  of  the  house  intend- 


THE   LIFE   OF   A   BOOK    AGENT.  247 

ing  to  go  home  and  have  nothing  more  to  do  with 
him.  A  street  car  was  just  passing.  I  signaled  it 
to  stop,  and  at  once  got  on  board.  I  was  not 
aware  that  Ford  had  followed  me,  until  I  turned 
around  to  take  my  seat,  when  I  found  he  was  with 
me.  He  begged  me  to  get  off  and  go  with  him 
where  he  could  talk  it  .all  over  with  me,  which  he 
could  not  of  course  do  on  the  car.  For  some  time 
I  refused,  and  only  yielded  when  I  became  afraid 
that  his  earnestness  would  attract  the  attention  of 
the  other  passengers  to  our  quarrel,  or  whatever  it 
might  be  called. 

Accordingly  we  got  off  the  car  and  went  to  an 
oyster  restaurant  where  we  had  a  long  talk.  He 
protested  his  entire  innocence  of  all  the  charges 
contained  in  the  letter,  and  strove  to  induce  me  to 
say  that  they  would  make  no  difference  in  my 
mind,  and  that  I  would  marry  him.  But  this  I 
would  not  do,  for  though  I  almost  believed  his  pro- 
testations I  wanted  time  and  opportunity  to  think 
the  matter  over  alone.  I  did  not  want  to  act 
hastily,  and  hence  evaded  giving  him  a  direct 
answer.  He  finally  ceased  his  persuasions,  we 
left  the  restaurant  and  walked  down  the  street  until 
a  car  came  along,  when  I  took  that,  and  was  soon 
at  my  home. 

I  had  been  there  but  a  few  minutes  when  a  half- 
brother  of  Ford,  by  the  name  of  Emsley  Sunderlin, 
and  his  son,  Gussie  Ford  came  to  see  me.  They 
had  been  informed  by  Frank  and  Wallace  of  the 
rupture,  and  came  to  induce  me  to  change  my  de- 


248  THE   LIFE    OF   A    BOOK    AGENT. 

termination  and  go  on  with  the  marriage.  They 
asseverated  his  entire  innocence  of  the  charges, 
and  urged  me  to  pay  no  attention  to  them,  assur- 
ing me  I  should  have  no  further  trouble  on  her 
account,  and  begged  me  not  to  allow  that  bad 
woman  to  break  up  the  marriage  by  her  mean 
and  spiteful  jealousy.  They  told  me  that  Frank 
was  taking  it  very  hard,  and  had  sent  them  to 
talk  to  me  about  it  in  the  hope  of  persuading  me 
to  accede  to  his  wishes. 

I  replied  that  I  was  fearful  we  should  never  be 
happy  in  each  other's  society,  and  that  I  believed 
it  would  be  as  well  for  both  of  us  if  we  never 
married.  But  even  while  I  uttered  these  words  my 
heart  was  wrung  with  anguish,  for  I  really  loved 
Frank,  and  the  idea  of  giving  him  up  was  very 
painful  to  me.  But  they  still  pleaded  with  me, 
urged  and  entreated  me  to  reconsider  my  deter- 
mination, and  at  length  I  yielded,  almost  against 
my  better  judgment,  and  told  them  they  might 
inform  Frank  that  I  would  be  ready  at  the  time 
appointed.  I  asked  no  further  pledges  or  protesta- 
tions from  him,  for  I  thought  that  if  the  promises 
he  had  already  made,  together  with  those  he  would 
make  before  the  man  of  God,  would  not  restrain 
him,  no  others  would,  and  it  was  worse  than  use- 
less to  demand  them  at  his  hands.  I  did  not  feel 
entirely  justified  in  the  step  I  was  about  to  take, 
but  I  loved  him,  and  thought  he  loved  me,  and  I 
trusted  to  that  love  to  avoid  any  difficulties  in  the 
future.  I  have  since  learned  that,  however  power- 


THE    LIFE    OF    A    BOOK    AGENT.  249 

ful  a  motive  love  may  be,  it  will  not  avail  to 
procure  peace  and  happiness  unless  sanctioned  and 
controlled  by  high  moral  principle. 

Two  o'clock  was  near  at  hand,  and  still  I  was 
not  fully  decided  in  my  own  mind  as  to  my  duty 
in  the  premises.  I  fancied  that  duty  said,  "  remain 
single,"  while  inclination  quite  as  strongly  de- 
manded that  I  should  go  on  with  the  wedding. 
And  thus  I  remained  in  the  most  painful  suspense, 
and  even  delayed  my  dressing  on  this  account 
until  the  clock  was  close  upon  the  stroke  of  two, 
when  I  suddenly  made  up  my  mind  to  go  through 
with  it  at  all  hazards,  hastened  to  complete  my 
•remaining  preparations,  and,  just  as  the  clock 
struck  two,  gave  Frank  Ford  my  hand  to  be  led 
to  the  carriage  in  which  we  were  going  to  the 
church.  He  handed  me  in,  sprang  in  after  me,  and 
we  rolled  away  to  the  church,  where,  in  the 
presence  of  a  very  few  friends,  whom  we  had 
invited  to  witness  the  ceremony,  the  man  of  God 
pronounced  the  words  which  bound  us  together 
forever.  Forever,  did  I  say?  This  was  a  mistake. 
It  was  said  to  be  forever,  but  we  shall  soon  see 
how,  in  a  few  short  weeks,  I  was,  by  the  tyranny 
and  brutality  of  the  man  who,  this  day,  promised 
to  love,  honor,  and  cherish  me  until  death,  driven 
from  my  nome  to  become  a  wanderer  among 
strangers,  and  seek  a  precarious  existence  by  my 
own  exertions. 

After  our  marriage  we  went  to  Mrs.  Marshall's 
for  dinner,  had  a  very  pleasant  time,  and  then  at 


250  THE   LIFE   OF   A   BOOK   AGENT. 

four  o'clock  took  the  cars  for  Waukegan,  where 
we  were  to  remain  over  night  at  the  house  of  his 
mother,  then  visit  two  days  among  his  other  rela- 
tions there,  and  return  to  the  city  the  next  day. 
Emsley  Sunderlin  accompanied  us,  and  just  before 
we  reached  Waukegan,  he  proposed  to  play  a 
joke  upon  his  mother  and  the  guests  whom  we 
knew  she  had  invited  to  greet  us.  Accordingly, 
when  we  reached  our  destination,  he  offered  me 
his  arm  to  conduct  me  to  the  house.  I  accepted  it, 
and  when  we  got  in  he  introduced  me  to  the 
assembled  guests  as  his  wife,  Frank  in  the  mean- 
time remaining  in  the  background.  Everybody 
was  taken  by  surprise.  The  old  lady  had  invited 
them  to  meet  her  son  and  his  bride,  and  they  had 
understood  that  it  was  Frank  who  was  coming 
with  a  newly-made  wife;  judge  then  of  their 
astonishment  when  one  so  much  younger  than 
Frank,  but  still  a  son  of  the  old  lady,  claimed 
the  honors  which  they  supposed  were  due  to  Mr. 
Ford.  Nevertheless  we  were  greeted  with  the 
same  warmth  which  they  were  prepared  to  extend 
to  Mr.  Ford  and  his  bride,  and  many  were  the 
€ongratulations  and  kindly  wishes  showered  upon 
us,  all  of  which  Mr.  Sunderlin  received  with  as 
much  gravity  and  unction  as  though  he  were  really 
entitled  to  them. 

When  supper  was  announced,  Emsley,  who  had 
never  quitted  my  side  for  a  moment,  in  order  to 
keep  up  the  deception,  offered  me  his  arm  and  con- 
ducted me  to  the  table.  We  sat  side  by  side  at 


THE   LIFE   OF   A   BOOK    AGENT.  251 

the  head  of  the  well-filled  board,  and  "many  a 
time  and  oft "  the  health  of  the  bride  and  groom 
was  pledged  by  the  joyous  guests,  Sunderlin  very 
coolly  appropriating  these  honors  to  himself,  while 
Frank  sat  near  the  foot  of  the  table,  coolly  and 
quietly  enjoying  the  joke  which  was  being  per- 
petrated. 

The  company  were  not  undeceived  until  the 
close  of  the  festivities,  late  at  night,  when  they 
were  immeasurably  astonished  at  seeing  Frank 
and  myself  retire  to  a  room  together.  They  at 
once  appreciated  the  fact  that  they  had  been  the 
victims  of  a  huge  "  sell,"  and  proceeded  to  inflict 
summary  vengeance  upon  the  offenders.  I  will  not 
detail  all  the  means  resorted  to  to  punish  us  for 
the  joke  we  had  played  upon  them ;  let  the  read- 
er draw  upon  his  imagination,  or  his  recollection, 
for  the  wildest  pranks  which  usually  attend  wed- 
dings in  the  rural  districts,  and  then  double  every- 
thing he  can  imagine,  and  he  will  have  some  idea 
of  the  events  attending  our  first  night's  stay  in 
Waukegan.  In  vain  Frank's  mother  tried  to  con- 
trol them,  and  induce  them  to  let  us  alone ;  with 
protestations  of  vengeance  for  the  deception  we 
had  practiced  upon  them,  they  continued  to  invade 
the  privacy  of  our  chamber  all  night  long,  and  we 
never  closed  our  eyes  for  a  moment  during  the  en- 
tire night. 

We  were  to  have  returned  to  Chicago  on  Friday, 
but,  the  evening  before,  Mr.  Ford  received  a  tele- 
gram from  that  place,  which,  he  informed  me,  was 


252  THE   LIFE    OF   A    BOOK    AGENT. 

from  his  son,  Daniel,  and  made  it  necessary  for 
him  to  return  at  once  to  the  city.  I  tried  to  induce 
him  to  tell  me  the  nature  of  the  dispatch,  or  let  me 
see  it,  but  he  declined  to  do  either,  saying  it  only 
pertained  to  some  business  matters  of  no  special 
importance,  and  that  I  would  know  all  about  it  in 
time.  I  asked  him  when  he  would  go  to  the  city, 
and  he  replied  he  should  go  that  night,  but  I  must 
stay  in  Waukegan,  at  his  mothers,  until  he  sent 
for  me,  which  he  said  would  be  very  soon.  I  could 
not  understand  the  reason  for  this  secrecy,  and  did 
not  like  it ;  but  felt  sure  some  trouble  was  brewing. 
I  could  form  no  idea  what  it  was,  but  my  fears  led 
me  to  imagine  something  very  horrible ;  and,  after 
my  husband  left,  I  walked  the  floor,  constantly, 
until  Daniel  Ford  came  in.  His  train  arrived 
about  eleven  o'clock,  and  he,  at  once,  came  to  his 
grandmother's,^where  I  was. 

I  was  glad  to  see  him,  for  I  knew  his  father  had 
arrived  in  Chicago  before  he  started  out,  and  I  felt 
in  hopes  he  had  brought  a  message  to  me  to  return 
to  Chicago  with  him  the  next  morning.  But  in 
this  I  was  disappointed — he  told  me  his  father 
wished  me  to  stay  in  Waukegan  a  few  days  longer, 
and  would  send  for  me  soon.  I  tried  to  induce  him 
to  tell  me  something  about  the  difficulty  which 
took  him  away  so  suddenly  ;  but  he  protested  that 
he  could  not  explain  anything ;  that  he  had  been 
advised  to  send  the  dispatch,  but  that  he  really 
knew  nothing  about  the  trouble,  save  that  it  was 
something  about  the  possession  of  the  house. 


THE    LIFE    OF    A    BOOK    AGENT.  253 

Finding  that  I  could  learn  nothing  from  him,  I 
gave  it  up,  and  retired  to  rest,  with  my  mother-in- 
law.  She  was  a  dear  old  lady,  one  whom  I  esteem- 
ed from  the  first  moment  I  ever  saw  her;  and,  as  I 
came  to  know  her  better,  I  loved  her  as  though  she 
had  been  my  own  mother.  When  she  found  that 
my  nervous  excitement  would  not  allow  me  to 
sleep,  she  beganfto  talk  to  me  ;  and,  as  she  was  a 
sincere  and  pious  Christian  woman,  her  conversa- 
tion, naturally  enough,  flowed  into  that  channel. 
She  asked  me  if  I  was  a  member  of  any  church, 
and  expressed  her  satisfaction  when  she  was  in- 
formed that  I  was  a  member  of  the  Christian 
Church. 

She  spoke  of  Frank's  being  a  member  of  the 
Baptist  Church,  but  said  she  thought  he  had  almost 
ceased  to  comply  with  the  outward  and  visible 
forms  of  religion  ;  expressed  much  sorrow  thereat, 
and  thanked  me,  kindly  and  heartily,  when  I 
told  her  that,  though  not  a  Baptist,  I  was  a 
Christian  and  would  use  all  my  influence  to  in- 
duce Frank  to  attend  church  and  resume  family 
worship.  In  such  soothing  conversation  as  this, 
the  night  passed  away,  until,  my  nervousness 
being  somewhat  relieved,  I  at  last  sunk  into 
slumber. 

When  I  awoke  in  the  morning,  however,  I  was 
as  anxious  as  ever;  and,  as  the  day  wore  on,  I 
could  think  of  nothing  but  the  strange  air  of  mys- 
tery which  attended  Frank's  departure.  I  was  con- 
tinually wondering  what  could  be  the  matter  which 


254  THE   LIFE   OF   A   BOOK   AGENT. 

so  imperatively  called  Mm  home ;  but  which  I,  his 
lawful  wife,  must  not  know,  and  I  finally  determin- 
ed to  be  put  off  no  longer.  Accordingly,  I  sent  a 
letter  down  by  Daniel,  to  his  father,  telling  him  I 
was  coming  home  the  next  day ;  that  I  could  not 
stay  away  any  longer,  and  asking  him  to  meet  me 
at  the  depot  in  Chicago.  This  letter  brought  no 
answer,  but  still  I  thought,  of  course,  he  would 
meet  me  as  requested. 

The  next  day  I  went  down  to  Chicago,  and  as 
we  rolled  slowly  into  the  depot,  I  looked  around 
on  every  side  for  my  husband,  but  he  was  nowhere 
to  be  seen.  How  bitter  was  my  disappointment ! 
Although  I  knew  lie  did  not  approve  of  my  coming, 
still  no  thought  of  his  refusing  to  meet  me  had 
ever  crossed  my  mind,  and  now,  to  be  treated  with 
such  apparent  neglect,  seemed  the  very  height  of 
cruelty  to  me,  and  the  tears  gushed  into  my  eyes 
at  the  thought.  I  hesitated  for  some  time  what  I 
should  do.  I  had  never  been  installed  mistress  of 
his  house,  and  did  not  feel  like  going  there.  Be- 
side, who  could  tell  what  difficulty  might  be  caused 
if  I  went  there,  not  only  unexpected  and  unan- 
nounced, but  in  direct  opposition  to  what  I  knew 
and  understood  to  be  his  wish ;  and  finally  I  de- 
cided that  I  would  go  to  my  old  home,  and  stay 
there  till  he  came  for  me.  Accordingly  I  walked 
over  there,  it  being  but  a  short  distance  from  the 
depot. 

I  had  been  there  but  a  short  time  when  he  came 
for  me,  and  asked  me  to  go  home  with  him.     And 


THE   LIFE   OF   A    BOOK    AGENT.  255 

then,  for  the  first  time,  I  knew  what  had  summon- 
ed him  home  so  unexpectedly,  and  also  why  he 
had  not  met  me  at  the  depot,  according  to  my  re- 
quest of  the  day  before. 

It  seems  that  Mr.  Ford's  housekeeper,  who  had 
been  sent  away  from  her  position  on  the  day  of  our 
marriage,  being  highly  incensed  at  the  loss  of  her 
place,  had  gone  to  Mr.  Alvord,  and  under  his  ad- 
vice, she  had  returned  to  the  house,  expelled  the 
German  girl  who  was  left  in  charge,  and,  taking 
possession  of  the  place  again,  had  avowed  her  de- 
termination to  remain  there,  at  least  until  the 
arrival  of  Mr.  Ford.  The  faithful  girl,  whose  rights 
were  thus  invaded,  had  gone  to  Daniel  for  redress, 
and  he  at  once  telegraphed  his  father  to  come 
down  and  settle  -the  dispute.  Mr.  Ford  came  down 
at  once,  and  found  her  in  absolute  possession  of 
the  house.  She  avowed  her  determination  to  main- 
tain her  possession  against  all  comers  whomso- 
ever. He  first  tried  to  make  a  treaty  of  peace 
with  her,  but  without  effect — all  his  overtures  were 
scornfully  rejected.  He  then  resorted  to  expostu- 
lation, then  to  entreaty,  and  finally  to  threats, 
telling  her  he  would  give  her  in  charge  of  the 
police  if  she  persisted  in  her  extraordinary  and 
outrageous  conduct ;  but  to  this  she  was  equally 
indifferent.  In  this  way  had  passed  the  entire 
day,  and  finally  he  had  gone,  that  very  morning 
(the  day  of  my  arrival),  to  carry  his  threat  into 
execution.  In  this  way  he  had  succeeded  in  get- 
ting possession  of  the  house  ;  but  in  what  a  condi- 


256  THE   LIFE   OF   A    BOOK    AGENT. 

tion !  While  he  was  gone  for  a  policeman,  she 
seemed  to  have  tried  to  dismantle  the  fortress 
which  she  could  no  longer  hold ;  or,  in  other  words, 
she  appeared  to  have  used  all  the  means  in  her 
power  to  render  the  house  as  nearly  uninhabitable 
as  possible.  The  carpets  were  torn  up,  the  win- 
dow-curtains taken  down,  and  over  the  floor  were 
scattered  fragments  of  broken  dishes  and  furniture. 
These  matters  had  delayed  him  until  too  late  to 
meet  me  at  the  train,  according  to  my  request. 

By  the  time  he  had  finished  this  recital  we  had 
arrived  at  the  house,  and  such  a  sight  as  it  was  I 
never  saw  before,  and  hope  never  too  see  again. 
Scattered  over  the  floor  were  fragments  of  crockery, 
glassware,  mirrors,  and  every  thing  that  would 
break ;  while  strips  of  carpet,  fragments  of  broken 
furniture,  shreds  of  curtains,  and  everthing  one 
could  think  of,  lay  in  profusion  all  around.  I  was 
heart-sick,  but  it  was  no  time  to  mourn,  and,  with 
the  assistance  of  our  faithful  German  girl,  we  set 
vigorously  to  work  to  repair  damages  as  far  as 
possible,  and  in  course  of  time  rendered  the  place 
quite  habitable. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

BEHOLD  me  once  more,  dear  reader,  installed  as 
mistress  of  a  home  which  I  could  call  my  own, 
and  the  wife  of  a  man  whom  I  loved  and  was  will- 
ing to  do  anything  in  my  power  to  render  happy. 
I  would  endure  any  cross,  privation,  or  trial  with- 
out a  murmur  for  his  sake,  and  would  only  ask 
in  return  the  inestimable  boon  of  his  love  and 
confidence.  The  light  of  his  countenance,  and 
the  kindly  affection  which  I  knew  my  conduct 
merited,  was  all  that  was  needed  to  render  me 
perfectly  happy ;  but,  alas  !  there  were  causes  at 
work  which  were  destined  to  undermine  the  castle 
of  peace  which  my  hopes  had  erected,  reduce  it 
to  a  wreck,  and  my  life  to  a  barren  waste  of 
wretchedness  and  black  despair.  Let  me,  in  the 
present  chapter,  unfold  some  of  the  causes  to  the 
reader. 

As  I  now  look  back  to  those  days  of  misery,  and 
scan  my  conduct  with  the  most  scrutinizing  care,  I 
am  unable  to  recall  a  single  instance  in  which  I 
failed  in  my  duty  toward  my  husband,  or,  in  word, 
thought  or  deed,  violated  the  promise  made  at  the 
altar  before  God  and  man,  to  "  love,  honor,  and 
obey."  I  did  not,  during  all  this  time,  give  him 
an  unkind  word,  or  even  a  look ;  it  mattered  not 
though  my  very  heart-strings  were  quivering  with 

17  (  257 ) 


258  THE   LIFE   OF   A    BOOK    AGENT. 

pain,  I  always  met  him  with  a  kiss  and  smile  when 
he  returned  from  his  labor,  and  at  parting  the 
same  seal  of  affection  was  always  exchanged  be- 
tween us.  Again,  I  felt  that,  as  my  husband  was 
by  no  means  wealthy,  it  was  my  duty  to  do  all  I 
could  to  help  him  along  in  the  world,  and  hence, 
when  he  proposed  that  we  should  take  some  of  the 
hands  employed  in  the  railroad  shops  to  board,  I 
at  once  assented  to  it,  although  really  not  able  to 
do  the  work  for  our  own  family,  to  say  nothing  of 
adding  the  cookery  of  four  or  five  men  to  my 
already  heavy  burdens.  And  thus  day  by  day  I 
toiled  on,  though  often  almost  fainting  with  weari- 
ness from  over- exertion,  vainly  hoping  against 
hope,  that  by  patience,  kindness,  and  the  most 
unselfish  devotion,  I  would  be  able  to  reclaim  the 
love  and  affection  which  I  saw  gradually  slipping 
away  from  me,  as  I  feared,  forever. 

Other  means,  also,  I  resorted  to  to  accomplish 
the  one  great  object  of  my  life.  The  reader  will 
remember  that  my  husband  was  a  member  of  the 
Baptist  church,  and  that  I  had  promised  his  mother 
that  I  would  try  to  recall  him  to  a  discharge  of 
his  duties  as  a  follower  of  the  meek  and  lowly 
Jesus.  Accordingly,  the  first  night  that  we  passed 
in  our  new  home,  I  brought  the  Bible,  and,  laying 
it  on  his  knee,  asked  him  to  read  a  chapter,  and 
have  prayers  before  we  retired.  He  looked  at  me 
in  some  surprise,  and  inquired  if  I  was  a  member  of 
the  church,  adding  that  he  had  understood  that  I 
was  not.  To  this  I  replied  that  I  was  a  Christian, 


THE    LIFE    OF    A    BOOK    AGENT.  259 

and  by  the  blessing  of  God,  and  his  assistance, 
hoped  we  would  both  be  true  Christians.  I  be- 
longed to  the  Christian  church,  he  was  a  Baptist ; 
he  did  not  like  the  Christian  church,  he  said.  "Well, 
I  will  go  to  church  with  you,"  I  said.  He  made  no 
further  remark,  but  opening  the  Word  of  God,  read 
a  chapter  and  then  we  knelt  together  and  offered 
up  our  petitions  to  the  throne  of  Divine  grace. 
And  each  evening  before  our  retirement  for  the 
night,  this  scene  was  repeated  for  some  time,  and 
each  evening  I  induced  him  to  go  on  in  the  path,  of 
duty,  hoping,  by  the  power  of  God's  grace,  to  at- 
tract his  heart  more  closely  to  mine.  At  times  I 
would,  at  his  request,  read  the  Word  of  God  while 
he  listened,  after  which  we  would  unite  in  prayer. 

I  also  endeavored  to  induce  him  to  attend  church 
with  me,  believing  that  by  so  doing  I  could  win 
him  more  closely  to  my  side  and  away  from  the 
associations  which  were  poisoning  his  mind,  and 
for  a  time  I  was  successful  in  this.  For  several 
Lord's  days  he  accompanied  me  to  church,  and  on 
such  occasions  he  invariably  treated  me  with  more 
kindness  and  consideration  after  our  return  than 
he  did  before  going.  But  the  effect  was  only 
temporary.  And  there  was  a  time  coming  in  which 
I  was  to  be  deprived  of  even  this  partial  influence 
over  him,  and  when  my  efforts  in  this  direction 
were  to  become  of  no  avail. 

While  I  was  thus  trying  to  discharge  every  duty 
toward  my  husband,  my  bitterest  enemies  were  as 
assiduously  working  to  destroy  him  forever. 


260  THE   LIFE    OF   A    BOOK    AGENT. 

There  is  something  incomprehensible  in  the  de- 
termined, relentless  hostility  of  these  miserable 
"beings  to  one  who  had  never  done  them  any  wrong 
whatever.  It  is  easy  to  conceive  why  one  who 
deems  himself  injured  by  another,  should,  at  the 
moment  and  in  the  heat  of  passion,  strive  to  avenge 
Ms  real  or  supposed  injuries,  but  how  one  can 
thus  through  a  long  period  of  time  continue  a 
course  of  unfounded  and  unmerited  persecution, 
is  utterly  unaccountable  to  me.  It  must  be  remem- 
bered that  theirs  was  not  the  work  of  an  hour  or  a 
day ;  for  weeks,  and  even  months,  they  labored 
unremittingly  in  the  pursuit  of  their  unholy  scheme, 
until  their  diabolical  perseverance  was  at  last 
crowned  with  the  most  complete  success — they  got 
Mm  to  drinking  liquor. 

Such  effect  had  the  persistent  attacks  of  my 
enemies  upon  my  husband,  that,  in  time,  he  came 
to  apparently  avoid  my  society  as  much  as  possi- 
ble. He  no  longer  spent  his  evenings  at  home 
with  me — no  longer  we  knelt  in  prayer  before  the 
throne  of  grace — no  longer  we  wended  our  way 
together  to  the  house  of  God  to  listen  to  the  teach- 
ings of  his  Word  ;  we  no  longer  visited  in  company 
any  place  of  amusement,  or  went  out  together  at 
all.  Solitary  and  alone,  with  the  light  of  my 
husband's  love  withdrawn  from  me,  with  my  path 
hedged  about  with  bitterest  thorns,  I  groped  my 
way  alone  in  darkness,  only  wondering  what 
the  end  would  be,  and  how  soon  it  would  come. 

But   it   was   not  upon   my  husband  alone  that 


THE   LIFE    OF    A    BOOK    AGENT.  261 

these  attacks  had  their  effect  to  my  injury,  though 
the  loss  of  his  love  was  the  severest  blow  which 
could  befall  me.  The  friends  and  acquaintances 
I  had  made,  one  after  another,  turned  aside  their 
heads  and  refused  to  recognize  me,  or  to  speak 
to  me  when  we  met ;  no  one  visited  me  or  returned 
my  calls,  and  in  a  short  time  I  was  as  completely 
ostracised  from  society  as  if  banished  to  a  desolate 
island  in  the  midst  of  the  Pacific  Ocean.  , 

God  pity  and  help  the  unfortunate  wretch  upon 
whom,  whether  guilty  or  innocent,  society  once  sets 
the  seal  of  its  condemnation,  for  there  is  no  help 
for  him  or  her  short  of  the  wisdom  and  power  of 
Omniscience  itself.  There  is  no  more  unjust, 
arbitrary  or  tyrannical  ruler  upon  the  face  of  the 
earth  than  this  same  society.  It  has  no  toleration 
for  errors,  and  admits  no  repentance  in  its  wretched 
victims.  Let  any  one,  and  especially  a  woman, 
commit  a  single  error,  and  attempt  afterwards  to 
repent  of  that  error,  and  retrieve  their  standing  and 
position — will  society  aid  them  in  the  slightest 
degree  ?  Will  the  friendly  hand  be  stretched 
forth  to  aid  them,  and  lead  them  into  brighter 
paths  of  peace  and  happiness ;  or  will  the  kindly 
glance  of  sympathy,  and  the  genial  smile  of  en- 
couragement, cheer  them  on  in  the  reformation 
they  have  attempted?  Will  society  whisper  to 
the  penitent,  sin-sick  soul,  "  Come,  I  will  lead,  and 
assist  you,  by  pathways  strewn  with  thornless 
flowers,  into  a  purer,  brighter  and  holier  atmos- 
phere, where  strength  and  vigor  shall  be  restored 


262  THE   LIFE    OF    A    BOOK    AGENT. 

to  you;  where  you  shall  breathe  airs  which  are 
never  deadly,  and  gather  fruit  which  holds  no 
lurking  poison;  where  innocence  and  joy  abound 
forever  more,  and  where  the  sins  of  the  past  shall 
be  remembered  no  more  forever  ? "  No ;  it  rises 
with  a  whip  of  scorpions,  drives  the  poor  victim 
from  the  door,  and,  with  contumely,  scorn  and 
reproach,  pursues  him  to  the  very  brink  of  the 
grave ;  and,  not  content  even  with  having  hunted 
the  poor  wretch  to  the  tomb,  it  pursues  him  be- 
yond, and  loads  his  memory  with  execration  and 
reproach. 

And  thus  it  is  that  society  renders  almost  im- 
possible the  reform  of  one  who  has  once  gone 
astray.  Our  Savior  was  not  ashamed,  when  on 
earth,  to  take  by  the  hand  the  penitent  sinner, 
and,  with  kindly  words  and  approving  smiles,  lift 
him  up  once  more  to  the  position  he  occupied 
before  his  fall ;  but  society,  composed  of  men  and 
women  who  profess  to  be  His  disciples  and  follow- 
ers, gathers  its  robes  around  it  with  a  sort  of 
Pharisaic  pride,  and  saying,  u  I  am  more  holy 
than  thou,"  shuts  the  door  in  his  face,  and  drives 
him  back  to  the  darkness  from  whence  he  would 
fain  emerge.  Out  upon  such  foul  hypocrisy  and 
hollow  pretense  as  this !  Is  it  any  wonder  that 
there  are  so  many  outcasts  in  the  world  when  their 
reform  is  thus  made  impossible  ?  And  will  not 
that  thing  called  society  have  a  fearful  account 
of  wrong  and  outrage  to  settle  in  the  day  of  the 
final  adjustment  of  all  things?  How  many  souls 


THE   LIFE    OF    A   BOOK    AGENT.  '      263 

that  might  otherwise  have  been  saved,  have  been 
driven  to  eternal  perdition  by  the  course  to  which 
I  have  alluded  ?  Who  can  contemplate  the  fearful 
record  without  shuddering  ?  But  to  return  to  the 
story  of  my  trials. 

During  all  this  time  I  had  no  suspicion  that  my 
husband  was  not* true  to  me.  I  knew  he  had  many 
sins  to  answer  for,  but  this  one  I  never  laid  to  his 
charge,  and  I  could  endure  almost  anything  so 
long  as  I  believed  him  true  to  me,  as  I  was  to  him. 
But  I  was  soon  to  be  undeceived,  and  to  find  my- 
self that  most  miserable  of  all  beings,  a  neglected 
and  forsaken  wife. 

I  was  one  day  mending  a  coat  which  he  usually 
wore  about  his  work,  arid  which  he  had  this  day 
left  home  for  this  purpose.  As  I  turned  it  over, 
a  letter  fell  from  one  of  the  pockets  to  the  floor. 
I  picked  it  up,  and  something  in  the  superscrip- 
tion attracted  my  attention  at  once,  and  I  immedi- 
ately opened  it,  and  there  found  my  worst  suspi- 
cions more  than  confirmed.  The  letter  was  from 
a  woman  whom  I  already  knew  for  one  of  my 
worst  enemies.  She  spoke  very  disrespectfully  of 
me — called  me  that  "  thing  "  he  had  married — as- 
sured him  of  her  undying  love — told  him  she  could 
not  give  him  up,  and  appointed  a  meeting  with 
him,  that  very  night,  in  the  ladies'  sitting-room  at 
the  railroad  office. 

How  my  blood  boiled  within  me  as  I  read  these 
damning  proofs  of  his  treachery  and  deceit !  What 
should  I  do  ?  As  I  sat  thus,  with  the  evidence  of 


264  THE   LIFE   OF   A    BOOK   AGENT. 

his  falsehood  in  my  hands,  I  was  for  a  time  almost 
incapable  of  thinking  rationally  upon  any  subject. 
My  first  idea  was  to  retain  the  letter  until  he  came 
home,  then  show  it  to  him  and  charge  him  with 
his  guilt ;  but  upon  reflection,  my  charity  for  him 
suggested  that  perhaps  this  letter  was  written  only 
for  the  purpose  of  being  seen  by  me,  as  a  part  of 
her  system  of  persecution,  and  that  he  might,  after 
all,  be  innocent.  But,  then,  why  should  it  be  in 
his  pocket  ?  Why  should  he  have  preserved  it  so 
carefully?  Nevertheless  I  decided  to  wait  until  I 
had  more  complete  proof  of  his  guilt,  and  accord- 
ingly returned  the  letter  to  his  pocket,  and  when 
he  came  home  made  no  allusion  to  the  matter. 

But  when  he  went  out  that  night,  I  hastily  threw 
on  a  bonnet  and  shawl  and  followed  him  at  a  dis- 
tance sufficient  to  avoid  his  observation.  He  went 
directly  to  the  place  of  meeting.  The  woman  was 
in  waiting  for  him,  and  they  went  away  together, 
I  following  them  at  a  safe  distance,  until  they 
finally  disappeared  within  the  door  of  a  low  saloon, 
of  the  very  worst  class  in  the  city.  . 

From  this  time  forward  I  watched  his  movements 
with  the  closest  and  most  careful  scrutiny.  Many 
a  time  have  I  searched  his  pockets  and  found  let- 
ters from  this  abandoned  woman,  in  which  she 
would  speak  of  prior  meetings  with  him,  and  make 
appointments  for  the  future  ;  and  I  invariably  ob- 
served that  he  went  out  whenever  the  time  came 
to  fulfill  these  appointments.  During  this  time, 
too,  I  was  making  inquiries  among  those  who 


THE   LIFE    OF   A    BOOK    AGENT.  265 

might  be  supposed  to  know  something  about  these 
matters,  and  was  told  that  Frank  C.  Ford,  my 
husband,  was  a  constant  visitor  of  this  woman. 
And  yet,  when  I  had  accumulated  proofs  to  satisfy 
myself  a  thousand  times  of  his  guilt,  and  charged 
him  with  it,  he  had  the  effrontery  and  the  hardi- 
hood to  deny  it  all.  And  when  I  told  hirn  what  I 
had  seen  with  my  own  eyes,  he  flew  in  a  rage,  re- 
peated his  asseverations  of  innocence,  swore  that  I 
had  never  seen  anything  of  the  kind,  and  actually 
had  the  temerity  to  call  upon  his  Maker  to  witness 
that  the  whole  thing  was  a  fabrication,  or  the  off- 
spring of  a  disordered  brain  ! 

Great  God!  is  there  no  punishment  for  such 
terrible  falsehood  and  blasphemy  ?  Here  was  this 
man  whom  I  knew — not  suspected,  but  knew — to 
be  guilty  of  the  worst  crimes  which  a  husband  can 
commit  against  a  wife,  and  yet  he  dared  to  call 
high  Heaven  to  witness,  what  ?  That  what  I  had 
seen  with  my  own  eyes  was  not  so ;  that  my  sense 
of  sight  had  deceived  me  ;  that  I  was  in  the  wrong, 
instead  of  being  the  victim  of  the  most  outrageous 
and  grievous  indignity  which  could  ever  be  offered 
to  a  true,  faithful  and  confiding  woman.  And  was 
there  no  remedy  for  all  this  ?  What  could  I  do  ? 
I  was  helpless,  powerless  in  his  hands.  The  crimes 
which  had  already  been  perpetrated  against  me, 
and  to  which  I  was  now  satisfied  he  was  a  party, 
had  put  it  out  of  my  power  to  do  anything  to  sup- 
port myself  in  Chicago,  and  what  to  do  I  did  not 
know.  I  had  no  means  to  go  elsewhere,  and  I 


266  THE   LIFE   OF   A   BOOK   AGE.NT. 

could  see  no  way  of  escape  from  the  horrors  of  my 
position.  The  only  thing  I  could  see  was  to  stay 
and  suffer  on  until  death  should  kindly  relieve  me 
from  my  sufferings.  To  such  a  state  of  despair 
had  I  been  reduced  by  the  course  of  persecution 
and  suffering  to  which  I  had  been  subjected. 

But  there  is  a  point  at  which  we  pluck  courage 
and  energy,  even  from  black  despair,  and  that 
point  was  fast  approaching  in  my  case.  I  had  en- 
dured, it  seemed  to  me,  almost  everything  that  a 
woman  could  endure,  and  yet  there  was  one  more 
indignity  and  insult  to  be  offered  to  me — one  that 
was  beyond  even  my  capacity  for  endurance,  and 
which,  at  last,  resulted  in  our  final  separation. 

One  day  my  husband  came  home,  and  appeared 
to  be  in  a  great  rage ;  though  it  was  very  usual 
for  him  to  be  abusive,  angry,  and  violent  toward 
me.  On  this  occasion  he  seemed  much  more  so 
than  usual,  and  led  me  to  think  at  once  something 
terrible  was  going  to  happen.  But  I  was  wholly 
unprepared  for  the  terrible  accusation  he  was 
about  to  bring  against  me.  What  it  was  need  not 
be  told ;  suffice  it  to  say,  it  exceeded  in  horror  and 
studied  insult  anything  which  I  had  before  been 
called  upon  to  endure  at  his  hands.  I  was  thun- 
der-struck !  Not  only  did  I  know  that  the  accusa- 
tion was  wholly  false  and  unfounded,  but  that  he, 
too,  must  know  it  to  be  so,  and  yet  I  was  fully 
aware  that  denial  would  avail  me  nothing.  The 
accusation  had  evidently  been  made  for  a  purpose, 
and  to  deny  it  would  serve  nothing  toward  defeat- 


THE   LIFE   OF    A   BOOK    AGENT.  267 

ing  that  purpose,  and  yet  how  could  I  rest  under- 
such  a  terrible  charge,  and  take  no  steps  to  dis- 
prove it  ?  He  accused  me  of  seeing  Mason. 

We  were  then  expecting  his  mother  to  visit  us 
the  next  day.  She  was  in  the  city,  at  the  house  of 
Mrs.  Spalding,  and  had  sent  us  word  that  she 
would  most  likely  come  to  our  house  on  the  day 
following,  and  stay  several  days  with  us.  I  de- 
cided to  tell  her  all  my  troubles,  including  this 
last  insult,  and  ask  her  advice ;  for  though  she 
was  his  mother,  I  had  sufficient  confidence  in  her 
to  believe  that  she  would  judge  impartially  be- 
tween us.  But  disappointment  awaited  me.  The 
morrow  came ;  but,  though  I  waited  and  watched 
anxiously  for  her  coming,  she  did  not  make  her 
appearance,  but  remained  at  Mrs.  Spalding's. 

When  Frank  had  gone  I  threw  myself  upon  a 
lounge,  and  calmly  and  deliberately  reviewed  my 
situation.  In  the  name  of  Heaven,  what  was  I  to 
do?  My  husband  evidently  wished  to  be  rid  of 
me ;  the  falsehoods  which  had  been  put  in  circula- 
tion about  me  had  blasted  my  reputation  and 
ruined  all  my  hopes ;  I  could  see  no  way  of  sup- 
porting myself,  and  could  not  stay  where  I  was— 
what  was  then  left  for  me  but  death  ?  Yes  ;  death 
would  end  the  struggle  forever,  and  would  be  a 
welcome  relief  from  miseries  which,  it  seemed  to 
me,  there  was  no  other  way  of  avoiding.  And  then 
the  tempter  whispered  me,  "  There  is  that  vial  of 
laudanum  in  the  cupboard ;  it  will  afford  speedy, 


268  THE   LIFE    OF   A    BOOK    AGENT. 

sure  and  painless  relief  from  the  miseries  yon  are 
now  enduring." 

There  is  a  certain  class  of  philosophers  who 
maintain  that  the  life  of  a  human  being  belongs 
to  himself,  and  that  whenever,  for  any  cause,  it 
becomes  a  burden  to  him,  he  is  fully  justified — 
nay,  that  it  is  a  praiseworthy  act,  and  commenda- 
ble in  the  sight  of  God  and  man — in  ending  it  by 
his  own  hands.  I  thank  Heaven  that  I  am  not,  and 
never  have  been  a  subscriber  to  any  such  doctrine. 
Life  is  the  immediate  gift  of  Grod  to  man,  bestowed 
upon  us  for  wise  and  beneficent  purposes,  and  not 
to  be  ended  until  the  same  will  which  bestowed 
the  gift  sees  proper  to  recall  it,  and  we  have  no 
more  right  to  endeavor  to  thwart  His  will  in  this 
particular  than  in  any  other.  It  was  just  as  ap- 
parent to  my  mind  then,  as  it  is  now,  that  I  was 
committing  a  most  heinous  sin  in  thus  conspiring 
against  my  own  life  ;  but,  yet  the  misery  I  endured 
was  such  as  to  render  me  willing  to  take  any  con- 
sequences which  might  follow  this  last  desperate 
effort  to  end  it,  and  I  went  about  my  preparations 
for  suicide  as  coolly  and  deliberately  as  I  ever  did 
anything  in  my  life. 

I  first  sat  down  and  wrote  a  letter  to  my  husband, 
telling  him  that  my  life,  by  his  persecution  and 
neglect,  had  been  rendered  a  burden  to  me ;  that 
anything  was  preferable  to  the  life  I  was  leading, 
and  that  I  had  determined  to  end  my  existence 
and  my  sorrows  together.  I  also  informed  him  of 
my  former  marriage,  and  how  my  husband  had 


THE   LIFE    OF   A    BOOK    AGENT.  269 

proved  to  be  a  married  man ;  and  begged  his  for- 
giveness for  any  wrong  or  injury  I  might  have 
unintentionally  done  him.  I  told  him  I  had  loved 
him  with  all  my  heart,  and  had  been  a  true  and 
faithful  wife  to  him ;  that  he  had  not  appreciated 
me  and  my  devotion  to  him ;  that  I  was  satisfied 
he  hated  me  and  wanted  to  be  rid  of  me,  and  that 
I  would  die  to  free  him.  This  letter  I  sealed  and 
directed  to  him,  and  placed  it  on  the  table,  where 
he  would  be  most  likely  to  find  it ;  then  I  took  the 
vial  of  laudanum  in  my  hand,  and  raised  it  to  my 
lips.  Then  the  thought  of  what  I  was  about  to  do 
caused  me  to  hesitate,  and,  for  a  moment,  my  heart 
failed  me,  but  it  was  only  for  a  moment.  Gather- 
ing new  courage,  I  once  more  raised  the  vial  to  my 
mouth  and  drank  of  its  deadly  contents ;  then 
calmly  undressed  myself  and  went  to  bed,  waiting 
for  the  poison  to  accomplish  its  destined  work. 
But  the  end  was  not  yet. 

It  was  about  eight  o'clock  when  I  took  the 
poison.  There  was  an  over-dose  of  it,  and  it  was 
not  until  I  had  been  very  sick,  and  had  thrown  up 
a  portion,  that  it  seemed  likely  to  produce  the 
effect  I  desired.  Ah  !  the  horror  of  that  deathly 
sickness,  when  death  stared  me  in  the  face,  and 
when  his  coming  was  eagerly  and  earnestly  de- 
sired, no  one  can  ever  know.  Not  for  a  single 
moment  did  I  repent  the  course  I  had  taken,  and 
my  greatest  anxiety  was  lest  not  enough  of  the  drug 
would  be  retained  in  my  system  to  accomplish  the 
object  for  which  it  had  been  taken.  But  at  last 


270  THE    LIFE    OF    A    BOOK    AGENT. 

my  sickness  partially  ceased ;  I  felt  a  delicious 
languor  stealing  over  my  body  and  pervading 
every  fiber  of  my  frame,  and  I  sunk  into  dreamless 
unconsciousness.  The  last  thing  I  remembered, 
before  the  period  of  unconsciousness  which  fol- 
lowed, was  the  clock  striking  ten.  Frank  had  not 
come  at  that  time  ;  I  was  alone,  and  the  world  with 
all  its  sorrows,  its  cares  and  griefs,  as  well  as 
its  joys  and  brightness,  was  fast  fading  from  my 
vision. 

I  have  no  means  of  knowing  what  time  Frank 
came  home  that  night.  When  consciousness  was  re- 
stored to  me,  which  was  not  until  almost  morning,  he 
was  sitting  by  my  bedside,  with  the  doctor  through 
whose  instrumentality  my  restoration  had  been 
effected  and  my  scheme  for  the  present -defeated. 
I  had,  then,  no  thanks  for  the  kindness  which 
had  prompted  them  to  save  my  miserable  life,  but 
wished  they  had  allowed  me  to  die,  and  inwardly 
vowed  to  renew  the  attempt  at  another  time  and 
under  more  favorable  circumstances.  Since  then, 
dear  reader,  I  have  learned  to  value  life ;  and 
I  thank  God,  that  He,  in  his  mercy,  interposed 
that  night  to  save  the  life  which  was  then  deemed 
so  worthless  ;  and  under  Him,  most  heartily  do  I 
thank  the  doctors  (for  there  were  two  of  them),  by 
whose  exertions  my  mad  attempt  upon  my  own 
life  was  defeated. 

As  soon  as  I  was  restored  to  consciousness  one 
of  the  physicians  left.  The  other  remained  until 
some  time  after  daylight,  administering  to  me 


THE   LIFE   OF    A    BOOK    AGENT.  271 

such  remedies  as  my  situation  demanded;  when, 
having  seen  that  my  condition  was  no  longer 
dangerous,  he,  too,  took  his  leave,  promising  to 
come  back  during  the  course  of  the  day. 

He  came  again  in  the  afternoon,  and  found  me 
much  better,  but  still  very  weak  and  sick  from  the 
effects  of  the  terrible  dose  I  had  taken.  From  this 
time  Ford  seemed  to  actually  hate  me,  whereas 
he  had  before  only  slighted  and  neglected  me. 
Now  his  whole  feeling  seemed  turned  into  hatred 
toward  me,  and  language  would  scarcely  suffice  to 
recount  the  various  means  of  which  he  made  use 
to  display  that  hate.  He  did  not  resort  to  actual 
violence,  from  very  shame  perhaps,  but  treated 
me  as  a  hired  servant,  and  not  as  his  equal,  and 
the  woman  he  had  sworn  to  love,  honor  and  cherish 
in  sickness  as  well  as  in  health,  until  we  should  be 
parted  by  death.  There  was  a  cool,  calculating, 
cruel  coldness  in  his  manner  toward  me,  an  effort 
to  degrade  me  in  my  own  estimation,  and  to  make 
me  feel  that  I  was  his  inferior,  which  was  really 
demoniac. 

And  as  soon  as  my  health  was  somewhat  re- 
stored, he  proceeded  deliberately  to  make  arrange- 
ments for  our  complete  and  final  separation.  He 
first  gave  up  all  our  rooms  on  the  ground  floor,  and 
moved  up  stairs  into  three  small  rooms  which 
could  only  be  reached  by  a  stairway  passing 
through  a  hall  belonging  to  the  lower  floor  of  the 
house.  I  protested  against  this  arrangement  as 
inconvenient  and  unnecessary,  but  it  mattered  not 


272  THE   LIFE   OF   A   BOOK   AGENT. 

to  Mm.  He  deigned  to  hold  no  consultation  with 
me,  or  to  make  any  explanation  of  his  designs  or 
intentions — it  was  sufficient  that  he  wished  it. 
At  this  time  no  idea  of  immediate  separation  had 
occurred  to  me.  I  felt  sure  it  would  come  ere 
long.  If  he  had  not  demanded  it  I  should,  for  to 
live  with  him  after  what  had  passed  was  simply 
impossible,  but  my  health  was  still  too  feeble  for 
me  to  think  of  leaving  him.  But  when  the  new 
arrangements  were  completed  to  his  satisfaction, 
he  coolly  told  me  he  was  not  going  to  keep  me  any 
longer ;  that  he  had  been  discharged  from  the  em- 
ployment of  the  railroad  company,  and  that  I  must 
now  look  out  for  myself,  and  asked  where  I  in- 
tended to  go  !  I  made  no  remonstrance  and  offered 
no  protest ;  first,  because  the  programme  was  not 
at  all  objectionable  to  me,  and  secondly,  because 
I  was  convinced  of  its  utter  uselessness.  I  merely 
asked  him  for  some  money,  which  he  refused  to 
give  me,  saying  he  had  none  for  me,  then  put  on 
my  bonnet  and  shawl,  went  to  an  employment 
office,  and  on  applying  for  a  situation,  succeeded 
in  getting  one  to  do  general  housework  for  a  family 
in  Niles,  Michigan.  I  was  to  go  that  very  after- 
noon to  enter  upon  my  new  sphere  of  duty. 

When  I  had  completed  my  agreement  and  set- 
tled all  the  terms,  I  went  back  to  the  house  and 
told  my  husband  of  my  arrangements  for  my  future 
support.  I  was  to  do  kitchen-work,  in  a  large 
family,  for  two  dollars  per  week.  He  made  not 
the  slightest  objection  to  my  going  out  to  work  as 


THE   LIFE    OF    A   BOOK    AGENT.  273 

a  kitchen  girl,  nor  do  I  suppose  lie  would  have 
objected  to  anything  else  which  took  me  out  of  his 
way.  No,  he  was  entirely  willing  that  his  bride  of 
a  few  weeks  standing  should  go  out  to  the  most 
menial  servitude  to  subsist  herself,  so  he  was  only 
left  free  to  follow  the  baser  passions  of  his  nature, 
relieved  from  even  the  trilling  restraint  which  my 
presence  imposed. 

And  this  was  the  man  who  had  vowed  to  protect 
me  from  the  cold  and  chilling  blasts  of  fate  in  this 
world !  This  was  the  man  who  had  once  professed 
to  love  me,  and  whom  I  had  promised  to  love, 
honor  and  obey — the  man  with  whom  I  had  ex- 
pected to  walk,  hand  in  hand,  all  adown  the  vale 
of  life,  our  pathway  all  strewn  with  the  flowers  of 
love,  and  our  lives  crowned  with  peace  and  happi- 
ness. How  bright  had  been  my  anticipations  of 
happiness  before  marriage  !  How  sad  and  gloomy 
the  reality  to  which  I  had  been  subjected !  Then 
I  supposed  that  I  had  found  a  haven  of  rest  from 
all  the  ills  and  cares  of  life — I  found  in  reality 
that  so  far  from  being  a  haven  of  rest,  it  was  the 
most  troubled  and  tempestuous  sea  of  sorrow  upon 
which  my  frail  bark  had  as  yet  been  set  afloat. 
How  gladly  then  I  hailed  any  arrangement,  how- 
ever unpleasant  or  disagreeable  it  might  be,  so  it 
only  involved  my  release  from  the  horrid  bondage 
under  which  I  was  suffering!  But  my  arrange- 
ments were  not  yet  complete.  The  train  which  it 
was  necessary  for  me  to  take  to  reach  my  destina- 
tion would  go  at  five  o'clock,  and  I  had  not  a  cent 

18 


274  THE    LIFE    OF    A    BOOK    AGENT. 

of  money  to  pay  my  fare.  I  spoke  to  Ford  about 
this,  and  asked  Mm  for  some  money.  He  replied 
that  lie  would  "bring  me  some  in  time  for  me  to 
leave,  turned  on  his  heel  and  left  the  house. 

I  felt  confident  he  would  keep  this  promise,  de- 
spite the  habitual  falsehoods  in  which  he  was  ac- 
customed to  deal  with  me,  because  I  felt  sure  his 
desire  to  be  rid  of  me  would  prompt  him  to  truth- 
fulness, knowing  that  it  was  impossible  for  me  to 
go  without  money.  But  the  day  gradually  wore 
away,  and  he  came  not.  The  time  for  my  depart- 
ure was  drawing  near,  and  still  he  had  not  made 
his  appearance.  My  trunk  was  packed,  and  all 
my  arrangrments  were  complete  for  starting ;  but 
still  no  money  to  pay  my  fare  had  been  received, 
and  now  the  conviction  forced  itself  upon  my  mind 
that  he  intended  to  do  nothing  for  me.  As  this 
opinion  gained  strength  in  my  mind  I  began  to 
cast  about  me  to  see  how  I  could  raise  the  means 
necessary  to  accomplish  my  object.  It  would  cost 
me  something  to  go  to  the  scene  of  my  new  en- 
gagement, and  I  did  riot  wish  to  land  there,  among 
entire  strangers,  with  no  money ;  for,  in  case  any- 
thing was  to  happen — myself  and  my  employer 
should  not  agree,  or  sickness  should  intervene — 
what  would  become  of  me  ? 

I  was  always  fond  of  pets,  and  had  a  large  cage 
of  very  fine  canary  birds ;  but  they  were  the  only 
objects  upon  which  I  could  now  lavish  my  affec- 
tion, and  I  did  not  like  the  idea  of  parting  with 
them.  I  looked  around.  The  house  was  well  sup- 


THE   LIFE    OF   A   BOOK    AGENT.  275 

plied  with  furniture,  bedding,  dishes  and  the  like, 
toward  procuring  which  my  labor  had  contributed 
as  much,  at  least,  as  his ;  and  I  greatly  feared 
that,  as  soon  as  I  was  out  of  the  way,  they  would 
be  taken  possession  of  by  others  whose  claim  was 
not  so  good  as  mine.  Why  should  not  I  take  some 
of  the  most  valuable  of  the  articles,  and  make 
them  conduce  to  my  support?  Surely,  morally, 
there  could  be  no  wrong  in  my  taking  them.  Be- 
fore proceeding,  however,  to  pack  them  up,  I  saw 
Wallace  Ford  and  sent  him  in  search  of  his  father, 
to  tell  him  I  must  have  money  to  start  upon  the 
trip  which  was  to  take  me  out  of  his  way  forever. 

Wallace  went  away,  and  was  gone  a  long  time. 
I  waited  as  long  as  I  dared,  and  then  went  to  work 
to  packing  up,  in  a  box,  the  articles  upon  which  I 
designed  to  raise  the  means  for  the  prosecution  of 
my  journey.  I  took  two  comforts,  all  the  sheets 
and  pillows  in  the  house,  all  the  best  dishes,  and 
some  other  articles,  arid  packed  them  in  a  box; 
and  my  only  regret,  when  I  looked  around  me, 
was  that  so  much  had  to  be  left.  About  the  time 
my  packing  was  finished,  Wallace  came  back,  and 
said  he  could  not  find  my  husband,  and  immedi- 
ately went  away  again. 

Meantime,  however,  an  express  wagon  had  come 
for  my  baggage  ;  the  driver  was  already  grumbling, 
and  saying  we  would  be  too  late  for  the  train,  and 
no  more  time  could  be  spared  to  wait  for  my 
truant  husband.  My  trunk  and  box  were  therefore 
loaded  into  the  wagon,  I  clambered  up  to  a  seat 


276  THE   LIFE   OF   A    BOOK   AGENT. 

beside  the  driver,  and  before  Wallace  got  out  of 
sight  he  saw  us  trundling  away  to  the  Central 
Depot.  Arrived  there,  we  found  the  prediction  of 
the  expressman  true ;  the  train  was  just  moving 
out  as  we  entered  the  inclosure,  and  there  was 
nothing  for  me  to  do  but  to  wait  for  the  next  train. 
Before  it  was  time  for  the  next  train  to  leave, 
Ford  came,  gave  me  fifteen  dollars,  accompanied 
me  on  board  the  cars  and  found  me  a  seat,  bade 
me  a  cold  adieu,  left  me  alone,  and,  in  a  short 
time,  I  was  on  my  way  to  push  my  fortune  among 
entire  strangers  as  best  I  might. 

11  BE  it  so;  we  part  forever; 

Let  the  past  as  nothing  be — 
If  I  had  not  loved  thee,  never 
Hadst  thou  been  thus  dear  to  me. 

"  Had  I  not  loved  thee  and  been  slighted, 

That  I  better  could  have  borne — 
Love  is  quelled  when  unrequited, 
By  the  rising  pulse  of  scorn. 

"Pride  may  cool  what  passion  heated, 
Time  may  tame  the  wayward  will, 
But  the  heart  in  friendship  cheated, 
Throbs  with  woe's  most  mad'ning  thrill. 

"  Oh!  there  is  a  silent  sorrow 

Which  can  find  no  vent  in  speech — 
Which  disdains  relief  to  borrow 

From  the  heights  that  song  can  reach. 

"  Like  the  clankless  chain  enthralling — 

Like  the  sleepless  dreams  that  mock — 
Like  the  irigid  ice-drops  falling 
From  the  surf-surrounded  rock; 


THE    LIFE    OF    A    BOOK    AGENT.  277 

"  Such  the  cold  and  sickening  feeling, 

Thou  hast  caused  this  heart  to  know — 
Stabbed  the  deeper  by  concealing 
From  the  world  its  bitter  woe. 

"  Once  it  fondly,  proudly  deemed  thee 
All  that  fancy's  self  could  paint — 
Once  it  honored  and  esteemed  thee 
As  its  idol  and  its  saint. 

"  More  thou  wert  to  me  than  mortal, 

Not  as  man  I  looked  on  thee — 
Then,  why,  like  all  the  rest  deceive  me ; 
Why  heap  man's  worst  curse  on  me? 

"  Wert  thou  but  a  friend  assuming 

Friendship's  smile  and  husband's  art, 
And,  in  borrowed  beauty  blooming, 
Trifling  with  a  trusting  heart? 

"  By  that  eye  which  once  could  glisten 

With  appealing  glance  to  me — 
By  that  ear  which  once  could  listen 
To  each  tale  I  told  to  thee ; 

"  By  that  lip  its  smile  bestowing, 

Which  could  soften  sorrow's  gush — 
By  that  cheek,  once  brightly  glowing 
With  pure  friendship's  well-feigned  blush— 

"  By  all  those  charms  united, 

Thou  hast  wrought  thy  wanton  will, 
And,  without  compunction,  blighted 
What  thou  would'st  not  kindly  kill. 

"  Yet  I  curse  thee  not  in  sadness — 

Still,  I  feel  how  dear  thou  wert — 
Oh !  I  could  not,  e'en  in  madness, 
Doom  thee  to  thy  just  desert. 

"  Live,  and  when  my  life  is  over, 
Should  thine  be  lengthened  long, 


278  THE   LIFE   OF   A    BOOK   AGENT. 

Thou  may'st  then,  too  late,  discover 
By  thy  feelings,  all  my  wrong. 

"  Ere  that  hour,  false  one — hear  me — 

Thou  shalt  feel  what  I  do  now, 
While  my  spirit,  hovering  near  thee, 
Still  recalls  thy  broken  vow. 

"  But 't  is  useless  to  upbraid  thee 

With  thy  past  or  present  state — 
What  thou  wert,  my  fancy  made  thee- 
What  thou  art,  I  know  too  late." 


CHAPTER   XYIII. 

As  the  train  slowly  moved  out  from  the  depot 
into  the  darkness  of  the  night  (for  it  was  nearly 
eight  o'clock  of  a  dreary,  stormy  night  on  which  I 
left  Chicago),  I  felt  that  I  was  really  alone  and 
desolate  in  the  wide  world ;  and  my  heart  sunk 
within  me  as  I  thought  of  my  prospects  for  the 
future.  I  was  going  to  a  place  of  which  I  knew 
nothing,  and  where  there  was  not  a  single  soul  whom 
I  knew,  to  enter  upon  the  duties  of  a  life  of  which 
I  had  had  no  experience,  and  my  purse  contained 
just  fifteen  dollars — all  my  fortune — and  even  a 
part  of  that  I  must  pay  for  my  ride  to  my  destina- 
tion. And  then,  what  if  my  experiment  at  Niles 
should  prove  a  failure? — what  would  become  of 
me  in  that  event  ?  Heaven  only  knew. 

These  thoughts  occupied  my  mind  during  the 
whole  of  my  ride  from  Chicago  to  Niles,  and  most 
effectually  prevented  me  from  sleeping  any  of  the 
time ;  and,  when  we  reached  my  stopping  place,  I 
knew  not  what  to  do  or  where  to  go.  I  had  never 
stopped  there  before,  did  not  know  a  single  soul 
in  the  place,  and  had  no  idea  of  where  my  em- 
ployer lived  or  where  to  make  inquiries  for  him. 
I  inquired  of  several  persons,  and  was  finally 
directed  to  an  aristocratic  looking  (for  that  place) 
mansion,  where  I  found  what  was  expected  to  be 

(279) 


280  THE   LIFE   OF  A    BOOK   AGENT. 

my  future  home,  and  first  met  with  the  woman 
whom,  for  the  first  time  since  my  childhood,  I  was 
to  call  mistress.  That  first  interview  satisfied  me 
that  my  stay  at  her  house  would  be  short.  There 
was  an  air  of  haughty  disdain  about  her,  a  sort  of 
reckless  contempt  for  the  feelings  of  others,  which, 
though  regarded  by  some  of  the  shoddy  aristocracy 
of  the  present  day  as  evidence  of  good  breeding, 
is,  in  my  judgment,  the  very  reverse,  and  stamps 
its  possessor  as  at  once  devoid  of  all  the  finer 
feelings,  which  mark  the  true  gentleman  or  lady. 

What  though  the  necessities  of  society  demand 
that  there  should  be  gradation  and  distinct  classi- 
fications among  its  members  !  what  though  some 
are  born  to  wealth  arid  fortune  and  others  to 
poverty  and  toil  ?  is  that  any  reason  why  the  first 
is  any  better,  or  has  any  finer  feelings,  than  the 
last  ?  If  one  is  born  to  an  heritage  of,  poverty,  and 
compelled  to  labor  from  day  to  day  in  order  to 
obtain  the  bread  which  sustains  their  existence, 
and  another  is  born  to  wealth,  and  thus  enabled 
to  employ  the  paid  labor  of  the  less  fortunate 
class :  does  that,  by  any  means,  demonstrate  that 
the  latter  class  is  possessed  of  all  the  finer  feelings 
and  sensibilities  of  our  common  humanity  ?  or 
does  it  give  them  a  right  to  trample  upon  an*l  dis- 
regard all  the  feelings  of  their  less  fortunate  em- 
ployes ?  Or,  suppose  one  to  be  born  to  wealth  and 
station,  and  by  some  reverse  of  fortune  be  swept 
from  their  high  estate  to  mingle  in  the  walks  of 
poverty  and  want;  and  suppose  another  born  in 


THE   LIFE    OF   A   BOOK    AGENT.  281 

the  circle  of  indigence,  and,  by  some  stroke  of 
fortune,  be  suddenly  placed  in  the  possession  of 
the  most  boundless  wealth:  can  any  advocate  of 
the  privilege  of  aristocracy  tell  me  by  what  sort  of 
alchemy  the  first  is  at  once  debased  into  an  animal 
destitute  of  all  feeling  and  sensibility,  while  the 
last  is  at  once  invested  with  all  those  delicate 
nerves  which,  in  the  opinion  of  some,  make  up  the 
delicate  lady  of  fashion  ?  No,  indeed.  Well  has 
the  poet  said — 

''Honor and  fame  from  no  condition  rise; 
Act  well  your  part — there  all  the  honor  lies." 

Before  I  had  been  with  my  new  mistress  two 
days  I  had  made  up  my  mind  to  leave  her,  and 
resort  to  some  other  means  of  earning  my  liveli- 
hood. The  haughtiness  and  contempt  for  the 
feelings  of  her  employes,  which  I  had  marked 
during  our  first  interview,  were  displayed  in  the 
most  offensive  manner  upon  every  possible  occa- 
sion, and  soon  rendered  my  position  there  not  only 
unpleasant  but  unendurable.  I  accordingly  left 
there,  and,  having  determined  to  try  some  other 
mode  of  earning  a  livelihood,  left  Niles  for  Detroit. 

Arrived  there,  I  rented  a  small  house  already 
furnished,  took  two  or  three  boarders,  and  also 
took  some  washing  to  do.  Getting  to  Detroit  had 
consumed  my  fifteen  dollars,  and  I  hardly  knew 
what  I  should  do  to  get  along  until  my  boarders 
began  to  pay  up,  which,  of  course,  I  did  not  ex- 
pect them  to  do  until  the  end  of  a  week  at  any 


282  THE    LIFE    OF    A    BOOK    AGENT. 

rate.  My  washing,  however,  brought  me  a  little 
money,  and  I  managed  to  get  along,  though  com- 
pelled to  go  in  debt  at  my  grocer's  and  my 
butcher's.  I  wrote  to  Ford,  telling  him  of  my 
situation  and  asking  some  assistance  from  him, 
but  without  eliciting  any  reply.  Doubtless  he 
was  too  much  engaged  to  take  any  notice  of 
letters  from  one  who  was  no  more  to  him  than 
his  wife.  He  had  gotten  me  out  of  his  way  and 
did  not  intend  to  be  troubled  with  me  any  more. 

Still  I  struggled  on,  and  tried  to  make  a  com- 
fortable living,  but  the  work  was  too  hard  for  me, 
and  I  soon  found  that  something  else  must  be 
done.  I  could  either  have  managed  my  boarding- 
house,  or  done  what  washing  was  on  hand,  but 
both  together  I  could  not  do,  and  neither  one 
alone  would  support  me.  I  have  already  in- 
formed the  reader  that  Captain  Lake  was  dead — 
his  wife  had  returned  to  her  family  in  the  South, 
and  there  was  no  one  to  whom  I  could  apply  for 
advice  or  assistance ;  but  one  thing  was  manifest — 
it  was  impossible  for  me  to  stay  there  and  live  in 
this  way.  Accordingly  I  gave  up  my  house,  and, 
going  to  an  employment  office,  applied  for  a  situa- 
tion. They  sent  me  to  the  house  of  a  Mr.  Cones, 
an  Express  agent,  and  a  most  thorough  and 
perfect  gentleman. 

Upon  my  arrival  at  his  house,  I  found  the  family 
to  consist  only  of  himself,  his  wife  and  her  sister, 
and  his  father-in-law,  one  of  the  kindest  and  most 
agreeable  old  gentlemen  I  ever  knew.  They  were 


THE   LIFE    OF    A   BOOK    AGENT.  283 

all  very  kind  to  me,  but  this  good  old  man  was 
more  than  kind — he  could  not  have  treated  me 
more  affectionately  had  I  been  his  daughter.  I 
hired  to  them  to  do  general  house-work,  at  two 
dollars  per  week,  and  for  a  time  everything 
passed  off  in  the  most  pleasant  and  agreeable 
manner.  The  work  was  not  beyond  my  strength 
and  the  family  could  not  have  treated  me  better 
than  they  did.  I  passed  for  a  young  widow,  and 
for  some  time  no  one  of  the  many  visitors  at 
Mrs.  Cones,  or  even  the  family,  knew  any  better. 
But,  although  my  lot  was  outwardly  as  happy 
as  could  have  been  expected  under  the  circum- 
stances, inwardly  my  mind  was  borne  down  by 
a  weight  of  sorrow  almost  too  heavy  to  be  borne. 
Nor  is  it  strange  that  such  should  have  been  the 
case ;  for  what  was  there  in  my  past  life  to  ex- 
cite any  but  the  most  sorrowful  feelings  ?  My 
life  had  been  one  constant  scene  of  clouds  and 
darkness,  with  only  here  and  there  a  ray  of  sun- 
shine, which  served  but  to  make  darkness,  both 
preceding  and  following  it,  more  dense,  impene- 
trable and  frightful.  And  in  my  present  em- 
ployment I  had  abundance  of  time  and  opportunity 
to  think  of  these  things.  As  I  daily  witnessed 
the  happiness  of  the  family  around  me,  and  com- 
pared it  with  my  own  wretched  lot,  it  made  my 
own  fortune  appear  so  dark  by  the  contrast,  that 
it  iwell-nigh  made  me  murmur  against  the  justice 
of  God  who  had  meted  out  such  different  for- 
tunes to  us.  Do  not  think  I  envied  them  their 


284  THE   LIFE    OF    A    BOOK    AGENT. 

happiness.  I  did  not,  nor  would  I  have  detracted 
one  single  atom  from  their  felicity  to  have  pur- 
chased for  myself  a  lifetime  of  unalloyed  happi- 
ness. But  I  could  not  help  making  the  contrast 
between  their  lot  and  mine. 

Constant  brooding  over  these  things  was  not 
without  its  sad  effects,  not  only  upon  my  mind, 
but  also  upon  my  physical  health.  I  became  first 
moody  and  morose,  and  then,  finally,  really  ill, 
and  unable  to  perform  my  daily  tasks.  I  was  com- 
pelled to  abstain  altogether  from  work,  and  took 
to  my  bed,  from  which  it  was  thought  for  some 
days  I  would  never  rise.  But  the  kind  care  and 
attention  of  Mrs.  Cones  and  her  sister,  aided  by 
my  naturally  strong  constitution,-  triumphed  over 
the  disease,  and  in  time  I  was  restored  to  compar- 
ative health  once  more. 

During  my  sickness  I  had  been  deranged  a  great 
part  of  the  time,  and  had  raved  almost  constantly 
about  my  family  troubles,  thus  most  effectually 
revealing  the  fact  that  I  was  other  than  I  seemed. 
And  when,  as  my  convalescence  approached,  Mrs. 
Cones  came  to  me  one  day  and  seating  herself  by 
my  bedside,  asked  me  to  tell  her  all  about  my  past 
life,  and  who  Eugene  Mason  and  Frank  Ford  were, 
I  expected  to  be  severely  blamed  for  having  de- 
ceived her  as  to  my  being  a  widow.  But  not  so.  As 
I  explained  my  situation  to  her,  the  tears  of  sym- 
pathy welled  up  from  her  warm,  full  heart,  and 
gathering  me  to  her  bosom,  she  said: 


THE   LIFE   OF    A    BOOK    AGENT.  285 

"  My  poor  child !  how  you  have  suffered.  Why 
did  you  not  tell  me  of  this  before  ? " 

"  Because,  I  was  ashamed  to  reveal  the  story  of 
my  troubles.  I  preferred  to  suffer  them  in  silence 
rather  than  inflict  so  uninteresting  and  unlovely  a 
tale  upon  any  one  else." 

"  And  this  silent  suffering  is  what  has  made  you 
sick.  If  you  had  confided  your  secret  to  me,  had 
shared  it  with  me,  it  would  have  been  safe,  and 
you  most  likely  spared  this  fit  of  sickness." 

"  I  know  I  ought  to  have  trusted  you,  but  I  was 
afraid  to.  One  is  so  uncertain  of  meeting  any 
sympathy  in  this  world." 

"  That  is  true,  but  no  one  ever  appealed  to  me 
in  vain.  I  must  tell  my  husband,  and  we  will  then 
see  what  can  be  done  for  you." 

u  Mr.  Cones  asked  me  some  questions,  after  hear- 
ing my  story  from  his  wife,  and  then  wrote  a  letter 
*to  Ford  in  which  he  told  him  I  was  there  sick,  out 
of  money,  and  in  debt,  and  that  he  ought  to  do 
something  for  me.  No  answer  was  ever  received 
to  this  letter,  and,  as  the  weary  days  grew  into  a 
week,  the  anxiety  which  I  constantly  endured 
about  my  situation  caused  me  to  relapse,  and 
again  Mr.  Cones  communicated  my  condition  to 
Mr.  Ford.  He  informed  him  by  telegraph  of  my 
severe  illness,  and  told  him  if  he  wanted  to  see  me 
alive  to  come  on  without  delay ;  but  to  this  dis- 
patch no  answer  was  ever  vouchsafed.  I  was  at 
that  time  inclined  to  be  charitable,  and  to  think 
that  Ford  had  never  received  this  letter  and  tele- 


286  THE   LIFE    OF    A   BOOK    AGENT. 

gram,  but  he  has  since  acknowledged  to  me  that 
he  did  receive  both  !  So  much  for  the  love  he  once 
professed  for  me.  Had  our  situations  been  revers- 
ed, and  had  he  sent  for  me,  I  would  have  gone  to 
him,  had  I  gone  barefooted  and  begged  my  way 
from  house  to  house.  But  I  can  not  believe  that 
all  men  are  thus  inconstant. 

But  it  was  not  the  will  of  Providence  that  I 
should  die  at  this  time.  Gradually  I  recovered — 
little  by  little  health  and  strength  came  back  to 
my  wasted  and  enfeebled  frame,  until  at  last  I  was 
able  to  leave  my  bed,  then  my  room,  and  finally, 
the  house.  As  soon  as  my  health  was  sufficiently 
restored  to  enable  me  to  go  about,  I  began  making 
arrangements  to  leave  my  kind  friends ;  for  I  felt 
that  more  active  life  was  what  I  needed — some- 
thing in  which  there  would  be  less  of  monotony, 
and  in  which  the  excitement  of  change  would  pre- 
vent my  mind  from  brooding  so  constantly  over 
the  dark  past.  It  was  this  which  had  caused  my 
sickness,  and  I  feared  to  encounter  the  same  dread 
monster  again.  They  urged  me  to  remain  with 
them;  but,  when  I  gave  them  my  reasons  for 
going,  they  acquiesced  in  their  justice  and  pro- 
priety, and  ceased  to  offer  any  further  opposition. 
They  asked  me  what  I  intended  to  do ;  but  this 
was  something  I  had  not  decided  upon.  Mr.  Cones 
then  suggested  that  I  should  engage  in  canvassing 
for  some  publishing  house — in  short,  should  be- 
come a  "Book  Agent."  I  did  not  like  this  much 
at  first,  fearing  I  should  fail ;  but,  at  any  rate,  it 


THE   LIFE   OF   A    BOOK    AGENT.  287 

would  possess  the  merit  of  constant  change — would 
keep  my  thoughts  employed — and  I  finally  decid- 
ed to  adopt  it. 

This  matter  settled-,  the  next  question  was, 
where,  and  from  what  house,  I  would  endeavor  to 
obtain  employment.  After  debating  the  pros  and 
cons  of  various  places,  for  some  time,  I  at  last 
made  up  my  mind  that  I  would  return  to  Chicago 
and  seek  employment  there.  The  reader  may  think 
strange  that  I  decided  to  go  to  a  place  where  I  had 
endured  so  much  of  sorrow,  and  where  so  many  of 
my  bitterest  enemies  were  living ;  but  I  had  an 
object  in  so  doing,  which  will  more  fully  appear  in 
the  sequel. 

But,  before  going  to  Chicago,  I  wished  to  go  to 
Indiana  and  locate  my  residence  there.  I  had  sev- 
eral objects  in  doing  this :  the  first  of  which  was 
this — I  had  determined  to  obtain  a  divorce  from 
my  unworthy  husband,  in  case  certain  matters 
turned  out  as  I  thought  they  would,  upon  my  visit 
to  Chicago ;  and  I  had  been  informed  that  the  laws 
of  that  State  were  such  as  to  render  the  attainment 
of  that  object  comparatively  easy  and  inexpensive 
to  a  resident  of  the  State  ;  and,  as  I  had  no  partic- 
ular ties  to  bind  me  to  one  place  more  than  another, 
I  might  as  well  live  where  I  could  easily  accom- 
plish this  object  as  any  place  else.  And,  I  may  re- 
mark here,  that  I  have  never  seen  any  occasion  to 
regret  having  chosen  that  State  for  my  residence. 
Some  of  my  warmest  friends  are  inhabitants  of  the 
noble  State  of  Indiana;  and,  in  all  parts  of  the 


288  THE   LIFE   OF   A   BOOK   AGENT. 

State,  I  have  met  with  a  kindliness  of  feeling,  and 
a  genuine  heart-welcome,  which  convinces  me  that 
the  Hoosiers  are  as  generous  in  sentiment  as  their 
soldiers,  in  the  late  civil  war,  proved  themselves  to 
be  brave  and  fearless  in  battle.  But  to  return  to 
my  story. 

As  my  funds  had  long  since  been  exhausted,  I 
had  but  one  way  of  raising  the  means  necessary 
to  prosecute  my  plans,  and  that  was  by  selling 
some  of  my  clothing.  Mr.  Cones  offered  to  loan 
me  the  money ;  but  his  kindness  had  already  been 
severely  taxed,  and  I  was  unwilling  to  test  it  any 
further,  preferring  to  be  independent,  if  it  was  in 
my  power.  I  accordingly  went  out  and  sold  my 
wedding-dress  and  some  other  clothing,  from  which 
I  realized  a  very  handsome  sum  of  money,  and 
started  for  Indianapolis.  Upon  arriving  there  I 
selected  lodgings,  left  the  greater  part  of  my  cloth- 
ing there,  taking  with  me  only  enough  for  a  change 
or  two,  and  started  for  Chicago,  to  see  what  could 
be  done  in  the  way  of  pjishing  my  fortune.  Another 
object,  which  I  wished  to  accomplish,  was  to  learn 
if  Ford  was  still  living,  what  he  was  doing,  whether 
he  had  received  Mr.  Cones'  letter  and  dispatch, 
and  why  he  had  not  answered  them. 

Upon  reaching  Chicago,  I  went  at  once  to  the 
railroad  office,  on  State  Street,  and  called  for  Mr. 
Webb,  the  Superintendent.  He  and  Ford  were 
well  acquainted,  and  I  felt  confident  he  could  tell 
me  of  his  whereabouts  if  he  was  in  the  city,  and 
my  confidence  was  not,  in  this  instance  at  least, 


THE   LIFE    OF    A   BOOK    AGENT.  289 

at  all  misplaced.  He  told  me  at  once  that  Ford 
was  in  the  city,  was  alive  and  well,  and  was  work- 
ing for  a  man  by  the  name  of  Lake,  on  Randolph 
Street,  near  Union.  I  knew  the  place  very  well — 
went  there,  and  almost  the  first  person  I  met  was 
my  step-son,  Wallace.  He  seemed  very  much  sur- 
prised to  see  me,  they  having  considered  me  dead 
some  time  since,  but  he  seemed  pleased  at  the 
meeting,  and  when  I  asked  if  his  father  was  there, 
promptly  replied  in  the  affirmative,  and  at  once 
went  to  call  him. 

He  came,  but  oh !  how  cold  and  constrained  the 
meeting.  He  did  not  ask  me  where  I  was  living, 
nor  about  my  health,  or  manifest  the  least  interest 
in  my  welfare,  nor  would  he  even  take  me  to  his 
boarding-house,  or  tell  me  where  it  was.  I  then 
asked  him  for  some  money  to  pay  my  expenses, 
but  he  refused,  saying  that  he  had  none  that  he 
could  spare.  He,  however,  promised  to  come  to 
the  Rock  Island  House,  in  the  evening,  to  see  me, 
and  said  he  would  then  give  me  some  money. 
But  he  only  said  this  for  the  purpose  of  getting  rid 
of  me,  for  he  never  came  near  me.  I  must  not 
omit  to  state  that,  in  this  interview,  he  admitted 
that  he  had  received  Mr.  Cones'  letter  and  telegram 
during  my  illness,  but  offered  no  excuse  for  not 
answering  them  in  any  way. 

After  this  interview,  I  went  back  to  the  Rock 
Island  House,  fully  resolved  in  my  own  mind,  if  he 
did  not  come  (and  I  had  not  much  idea  he  would) 
that  evening,  according  to  his  promise,  never  to 

19 


290  THE   LIFE   OF   A   BOOK   AGENT. 

call  upon  him  for  assistance  again,  or  in  any  way 
to  recognize  him  as  my  husband,  save 'by  going  on 
with  my  proceeding  for  divorce  just  as  early  as 
the  laws  of  the  State  where  my  residence  now  was 
would  permit  of  my  doing.  Evening  came,  but, 
according  to  my  anticipations,  he  did  not,  and 
from  that  day  to  this  I  have  never  seen  or  com-, 
municated  with  him. 

At  the  Rock  Island  House  I  got  hold  of  the 
"Chicago  Tribune,"  and  turning  at  once  to  the 
column  of  "Wants,"  found  the  following  notice  : 

WANTED,  Agents,  both  ladies  and  gentlemen  to 
canvass  for  "  Tried  and  True,  or  Love  and  Loyal- 
ty," a  new  book  destined  to  have  an  immense  sale. 
Apply  to  W.  J.  Holland,  38  Lombard  Block, 
Chicago. 

The  name  of  the  work  struck  me  favorably,  and 
I  determined  to  apply  at  once  for  a  situation.  But 
it  was  too  late  to  do  anything  that  evening,  and 
beside,  I  was  a  little  in  hopes  that  Ford  would 
keep  his  promise,  and  call  on  me  that  evening.  I 
therefore  cut  out  the  advertisement,  resolving  to 
call  at  the  place  indicated  early  the  next  morning. 

The  next  morning  at  ten  o'clock  found  me  at  JSTo. 
38  Lombard  Block.  The  gentleman  in  attendance 
was  very  kind  and  pleasant,  and,  in  answer  to  my 
inquiries,  told  me  the  work  was  just  out;  that  he 
was  the  general  agent  for  Illinois,  and  he  thought 
an  active,  energetic  agent  could  do  well  with  the 
work.  He  gave  me  the  terms  upon  which  the  work 
would  be  furnished  to  agents,  and  the  price  at 


THE    LIFE    OF    A    BOOK    AGENT.  291 

which  they  would  be  allowed  to  sell  it.  I  was  at 
that  time  very  green  in  relation  to  such  matters, 
and  thought  the  margin  allowed  was  enormous, 
and  that  a  fortune  would  in  a  short  time  crown  my 
efforts.  Though  I  have  since  learned  by  experience 
that  the  colors  in  which  the  business  was  then  pre- 
sented to  my  view  were  more  roseate  than  the  facts 
warranted,  still  I  take  occasion  to  say  that  the 
energetic,  active  book  agent,  who  pursues  the  busi- 
ness with  tact  and  judgment,  need  never  fear  such 
a  thing  as  a  failure.  If  properly  doing  their  duty, 
they  are  certain  of  fair  returns,  in  a  pecuniary 
point  of  view,  while  the  avocation  presents  the 
ever-recurring  charm  of  novelty  and  change,  and 
affords  facilities  for  the  study  of  human  nature 
almost  unequaled  by  any  other  pursuit.  But  to 
return  to  my  interview  with  Mr.  Holland. 

He  asked  me  where  I  wished  to  canvass,  and 
suggested  Peoria  County,  Illinois,  as  a  good  place ; 
and  having  no  objections  to  going  there,  I  finally 
made  arrangements  with  him  to  canvass  exclusively 
that  county,  if  I  should  decide  to  canvass  for  him 
at  all.  He  then  told  me  that  my  first  book  would 
cost  two  dollars  and  a  half,  which  must  be  paid 
in  advance,  and  that  circulars,  subscription  books, 
and  all  other  necessary  documents  would  be  fur- 
nished free  of  charge.  I  had  not  the  money  to  pay 
him  for  my  first  book,  but  was  too  proud  to  tell 
him  so,  and  therefore  left,  promising  to  call 
on  Monday,  and  acquaint  him  with  my  deter- 
mination. 


292  THE   LIFE   OF   A    BOOK   AGENT. 

I  at  once  began  to  cast  about  to  see  where  I 
could  raise  the  money  necessary  to  start  in 
business.  It  would  cost  me  between  fourteen  and 
fifteen  dollars  to  pay  my  hotel  bill,  buy  my  book, 
pay  my  fare  to  Peoria,  and  meet  such  other  ex- 
penses as  I  must  necessarily  incur  before  I  could 
get  to  work.  What  could  I  dispose  of  to  raise 
it?  I  had  no  clothing  with  me  that  I  could 
spare,  and  I  could  think  of  nothing  but  my  canary 
birds.  And  yet,  how  could  I  part  with  them  ? 
They  had  been  my  companions  since  that  cold 
parting  with  my  husband  at  the  Central  Depot 
in  Chicago ;  they  were  my  only  pets,  and  seemed 
almost  as  dear  to  me  as  though  they  had  been 
children  of  my  own  flesh  and  blood.  Then  I 
thought  of  my  watch.  Perhaps  something  could 
be  raised  on  that.  I  went  to  a  pawnbroker,  and 
showing  him  my  watch,  asked  how  much  he  would 
loan  me  on  it.  He  replied  eight  dollars  was  all 
he  could  afford.  This  would  not  meet  my  neces- 
sities, and  now  no  resource  was  left  but  to  sell  my 
birds. 

I  took  them  and  went  upon  Madison  street, 
and  was  there  told  by  a  gentleman  that  I  might 
leave  them  with  him  for  a  time  and  let  him  hear 
them  sing,  and  if  they  suited  him  he  would  buy 
them.  They  were,  I  think,  the  sweetest  singers  I 
ever  heard  in  my  life,  and  were  certainly  the  most 
perfect  pets  I  ever  saw.  One  of  them  in  particular, 
would  come  out  of  the  cage  and  lie  in  my  hand  as 
if  dead,  while  I  would  pretend  to  cry  over  it  and 


THE   LIFE   OF   A    BOOK    AGENT.  293 

mourn  for  it.  Bat  this  time  it  was  no  pretense 
with  me.  As  I  displayed  this  little  trick  to  the 
gentleman,  I  cried  in  reality  as  though  my  heart 
would  break  at  the  thought  of  parting  with  them. 

When  I  came  back,  after  an  absence  of  about  an 
hour,  I  told  the  gentleman  I  could  not  sell  my 
birds,  but  if  he  would  let  me  have  seven  dollars 
(the  amount  he  proposed  to  give  me  for  them), 
I  would  leave  them  with  him,  with  the  understand- 
ing that  if  at  any  time  I  came  back  and  paid 
him  the  seven  dollars,  with  interest  at  the  rate  of 
twenty-five  per  cent.,  he  should  return  them  to  me. 
To  this  he  assented,  and  then  I  cried  worse  than 
ever.  Had  they  been  children  it  would  not  have 
been  more  painful  to  me  to  have  parted  with  them, 
but  it  was  finally  done,  and  I  went  back  to  the 
hotel,  where  I  took  another  crying  spell.  The 
landlady  came  in  and  asked  me  what  was  the 
matter.  I  told  her  I  had  sold  my  birds — that  I 
was  going  out  canvassing,  and,  of  course,  could 
not  take  them  with  me,  and  hence  had  sold  them. 
I  was  too  proud  to  tell  her  that  they  had  been 
sold  to  raise  the  money  to  start  me  in  business,  and 
hence  put  it  upon  the  ground  of  my  inability  to 
care  for  them.  She  replied  that  I  need  not  have 
sold  them,  for  she  would  have  taken  care  of  them 
for  me,  but  I  answered  it  was  now  done  and  could 
not  be  helped. 

I  was  now  in  possession  of  fifteen  dollars,  my 
sole  and  entire  capital,  and  was  about  starting  out 
with  that  sum  (or  rather  what  would  be  left  of  it 


294  THE   LIFE   OF   A   BOOK   AGENT. 

after  paying  my  hotel  bill)  to  seek  my  fortune. 
This  may  seem  like  rather  a  slender  foundation  for 
such  a  fortune  as  I  hoped  to  accumulate  in  time  ; 
but  it  is  one  of  the  beauties  of  our  business  that  it 
requires  little  or  no  capital  to  start  in  it.  If,  like 
me,  you  can  raise  funds  enough  to  buy  your  book 
and  an  old  basket  to  carry  it  in,  and  can  then  pay 
you  fare  to  the  place  where  you  are  going  to  work, 
you  are  all  right. 

I  waited  until  Monday,  then  went  to  Mr.  Holland 
and  paid  him  for  a  book,  thus  concluding  the  con- 
tract between  us,  and  made  my  arrangements  to 
proceed  to  my  field  of  labor  that  very  afternoon. 
Before  going,  however,  I  must  purchase  something 
or  other  in  which  to  carry  my  book  and  papers. 
Time  enough  for  that  yet,  however,  and,  as  my 
business  was  finally  settled  and  my  mind  relieved, 
I  went  to  call  upon  an  old  friend  for  a  short  time 
before  leaving  the  city,  most  likely  forever. 

This  visit  was  productive  of  pleasure  in  more 
ways  than  one,  aside  from  a  little  matter  of  busi- 
ness, by  means  of  which  my  outfit  was  finally  com- 
pleted. In  the  first  place,  I  had  a  very  pleasant 
visit  with  the  lady  upon  whom  I  called,  told  her 
all  about  my  plans  and  prospects  for  the  future, 
and  received  her  congratulations  and  well  wishes. 
Then,  just  as  I  was  about  leaving,  another  old  and 
valued  friend  came  in — one  who  had  been  a  friend 
to  me  in  time  of  trouble — and  my  story  had  to  be 
repeated  to  her,  much  to  her  astonishment.  Mrs. 
Gregg,  the  last  coiner,  was  one  of  those  kind,  clever 


THE   LIFE   OF    A   BOOK    AGENT.  295 

bodies,  whom  everybody  loves  and  regards  as  a 
sister,  and  can  keep  any  article,  be  it  clothing  or 
anything  else,  forever  and  a  day  after.  She  had  in 
her  hand  an  old-fashioned  basket,  one,  perhaps, 
that  had  been  used  to  hold  the  fragments  of  fish 
we  read  of  in  the  fifteenth  chapter  of  Matthew,  but 
which,  owing  to  her  wonderful  tact  in  the  art  of 
preservation,  was  still  sound  and  in  good  repair.  As 
I  looked  at  this  basket,  it  suddenly  occurred  to  me 
that  this  was  the  very  thing  to  answer  my  purpose. 

"  Mrs,  Gregg,"  said  I,  abruptly,  "  what  will  you 
take  for  your  basket  ?  " 

"My  basket,"  said  the  good  old  lady,  turning  it 
over  and  looking  at  it  on  all  sides  ;  "  don't  make 
fun  of  my  basket.  It  has  been  my  constant  com- 
panion for  a  great  many  years." 

"  I  am  not,  making  fun  of  it,  I  assure  you.  I  am 
in  sober  earnest.  It  is  just  the  thing  to  use  in  my 
canvassing,  and  I  really  want  to  buy  it  of  you." 

"  Well,  Minnie,  if  you  are  in  earnest,  I  may, 
perhaps,  let  you  have  it.  But  I  supposed  you 
were  only  making  fun  of  it  because  it  is  old- 
fashioned." 

"  Indeed,  I  was  not." 

"  Well,"  said  the  lady,  again  turning  the  basket 
around,  and  look  at  it  on  all  sides,  "  you  may  have 
it  for  one  dollar." 

"  I  will  take  it." 

I  paid  her  the  dollar,  she  emptied  the  basket, 
and  it  was  transferred  to  my  possession,  and  has 
been  my  constant  companion  ever  since.  I  have 


296  THE   LIFE   OF   A   BOOK   AGENT. 

carried  it  wherever  I  went,  and  shall  always  keep 
it  as  a  souvenir  of  one  of  the  best  friends  I  ever 
had  ;  and  she  can  keep  a  certain  pitcher  to  remind 
her  of  me  and  a  certain  moving-day. 

I  then  went  to  the  hotel,  paid  my  bill,  went  to 
the  depot  and  bought  a  ticket  to  Peoria.  This  left 
just  ten  cents  in  my  possession,  and  with  this 
small  fortune  I  took  my  seat  on  the  cars,  and  was 
soon  whirling  out  of  the  city  to  my  new  field  of 
labor. 


CHAPTER    XIX. 

As  the  cars  bore  me  rapidly  onward  toward  the 
place  selected  in  which  I  was  to  begin  my  career 
as  a  "  Book  Agent,"  I  had  abundant  time  to  re- 
view the  situation  and  decide  upon  my  course  of 
action  when  I  should  finally  arrive  at  the  field. 
And  the  first  point  to  determine  was,  how  to  get 
along  with  my  ridiculously  small  fund  and  pay 
my  way  until  returns  from  my  labors  began  to 
come  in,  which  would  most  likely  be  a  week  or 
more.  Rather  a  difficult  problem,  say  you,  my  dear 
reader  ?  This  may  be  so  ;  and  yet  I  found  means 
to  solve  it  to  my  entire  satisfaction.  Upon  one 
thing  I  was  determined — not  to  betray  the  low 
state  of  my  finances  to  any  one,  for  this  could  not 
be  otherwise  than  disastrous  to  all  my  future  plans. 
Such  is  the  disposition  of  the  world ;  let  it  be  sup- 
posed that  one  has  money,  no  matter  whether  he 
possesses  honesty,  merit,  or  anything  else  which 
should  commend  him  to  the  confidence  of  the  pub- 
lic, and  every  one  is  ready  to  stretch  forth  the 
helping  hand ;  men  will  go  out  of  their  way,  get 
down  on  their  knees  and  crawl  in  the  dirt,  for  the 
purpose  of  doing  him  a  favor,  whether  they  expect 
to  receive  any  reward  for  it  or  not.  But  no  matter 
what  his  merits  may  be,  let  it  be  understood 
(whether  correctly  or  otherwise)  that  his  purse  is 

(297) 


298  THE   LIFE   OF   A   BOOK   AGENT. 

light,  and  none  are  ready  to  assist  him,  even 
though  by  so  doing  they  were  sure  to  immediately 
and  pecuniarily  benefit  themselves ;  no  faces  are 
wreathed  in  smiles  at  his  approach;  no  hand  is 
stretched  forth  to  relieve  his  most  pressing  neces- 
sities :  but  he  is  regarded  with  looks  and  frowns 
of  ill-concealed  contempt  and  aversion,  while  pock- 
ets are  sternly  buttoned  up,  and  freezing  coldness 
chills  his  very  soul.  Yes ;  if  one  wishes  to  cut 
himself  oif  from  all  hope  of  success  in  this  world, 
let  him  only  cause  it  to  be  understood  that  he  is 
poor.  This  I  was  resolved  not  to  do.  No  one 
should  know  that  I  was  without  funds,  and  was 
dependent  upon  my  daily  labor  for  my  support.  I 
would  stop  at  the  best  hotel  in  Peoria,  leave  my 
baggage  (I  had  sent  to  Indianapolis  and  obtained 
a  trunk  full  of  my  clothing)  in  the  hands  of  the 
landlord  as  security  for  my  bill,  and  go  to  work 
with  energy  and  vigor,  trusting  in  a  kind  Provi- 
dence to  crown  my  efforts  with  success.  And  I 
may  add  here  that  the  result  has  more  than  justi- 
fied my  expectations. 

In  due  time  we  arrived  at  Peoria,  and  then,  for 
the  first  time,  my  heart  failed  me  in  regard  to  the 
task  before  me.  Entirely  without  experience  in 
the  work  to  which  I  had  addressed  myself — alone, 
in  a  large  city,  where  there  was  not  a  single  human 
being  whom  I  had  seen  or  of  whom  I  knew  any- 
thing— no  one  to  whom  I  could  apply  for  advice  or 
assistance  in  case  of  emergency — is  it  strange  that 
my  heart  should  be  somewhat  cast  down,  and  that 


THE    LIFE    OF    A    BOOK    AGENT.  299 

my  soul  should  shrink,  somewhat,  from  the  contest 
at  hand;  the  bitter  struggle  with  poverty  and 
want,  in  which  there  were,  at  least,  as  many 
chances  against  me  as  there  were  in  my  favor? 
Add  to  these  reflections  the  confusion  created  in 
my  mind  by  the  din  and  bustle  ever  attendant  up- 
on the  arrival  of  a  train;  the  hackmen,  porters, 
omnibus-drivers,  and  all  of  that  ilk,  filling  the  air 
and  torturing  the  ear  with  cries  of  all  kinds ;  each 
one  praising  his  own  line,  or  his  own  house,  or  his 
own  carriage,  as  superior  to  any  and  all  others, 
and  the  reader  (who  doubtless  has  experienced,  to 
his  or  her  satisfaction,  all  these  annoyances  of 
travel)  will  not  be  surprised  that,  for  a  short  time, 
our  new-made  book  agent  stood  utterly  bewilder- 
ed, dumfoundered,  and  at  a  loss  what  to  do  or 
where  to  go. 

Notwithstanding  the  fact  that  I  had  so  carefully 
laid  and  so  fully  digested  all  my  plans  of  action 
during  the  passage  of  the  train  from  Chicago,  I 
fancy  I  was,  for  a  time,  as  pitiable  a  spectacle  of 
indecision  and  uncertainty  as  was  ever  seen  upon 
this  mundane  sphere.  It  now  affords  me  much 
amusement  to  recall  the  incidents  of  that  first  ar- 
rival in  Peoria  ;  but,  then,  believe  me,  dear  reader, 
it  was  no  laughing  matter.  I  have  no  doubt  the 
bystanders  all  thought  that  was  the  first  time  I 
had  ever  disembarked  from  a  railway  train ;  and, 
most  certainly,  my  conduct  _was  such  as  not  to 
give  the  lie  to  such  a  supposition.  But  relief  at 
last  came.  As  I  stood,  surrounded  by  a  crowd  of 


300  THE    LIFE    OF    A    BOOK    AGENT. 

porters,  hackmen,  and  the  like,  each  one  of  whom 
was  anxious  to  serve  me  (they  did  not  know  that 
ten  cents  was  all  my  fortune),  a  gentleman  and 
lady,  whom  I  had  noticed  on  the  train,  bup  with 
whom  I  had  had  no  conversation,  approached  me, 
and  the  gentleman  kindly  asked  me  where  I  wished 
to  go.  I  told  him  that  I  was  a  stranger  in  the  city, 
having  never  been  there  before,  and  that  I  wanted 
to  go  to  a  good  hotel.  He  informed  me  that  he 
lived  in  the  city  ;  that  himself  and  wife  were  going 
up  in  town,  and  that  if  I  would  accompany  them 
they  would  show  me  the  way  to  the  Peoria  House, 
the  best  hotel  in  the  place.  I  thanked  him  heart- 
ily for  his  kindness  to  a  perfect  stranger,  and  we 
at  once  set  out,  on  foot,  for  our  destination.  After 
walking  three  or  four  blocks,  we  came  in  sight  of 
a  large  brick  house  near  the  public  square. 

"There,  Miss,"  said  my  guide,  pointing  to  a 
large  brick  building,  "  is  the  Peoria  House." 

Again  I  thanked  him  for  his  kindness,  and, 
crossing  the  street,  went  up  a  short  flight  of  steps 
into  the  house,  and  passed  into  the  parlor.  My 
heart  beat  violently  as  I  rung  the  bell.  "  What  if 
I  should  fail,  after  all,"  I  thought ;  "  what  will  be- 
come of  me  ? " 

A  boy  came  in  answer  to  my  summons,  and 
stood  awaiting  my  order.  I  told  him  I  wanted  a 
room.  He  retired,  and  in  a  short  time  a  gentleman 
came  in  with  a  key  in  his  hand,  and,  bowing  polilte- 
ly,  inquired  if  I  wished  a  room. 

"If  you  please,  sir." 


THE   LIFE    OF   A    BOOK    AGENT.  301 

"  Have  you  any  baggage,  madam  ? 

"My  trunk  is  at  the  depot,"  I  replied,  handing 
him  my  check ;  "  will  you  send  for  it  ? " 

"  Certainly,  madam ;  will  you  have  it  sent  to 
your  room  ? " 

"  Yes,  sir.     Can  I  have  supper  ? " 

"  Yes,  I  will  show  you  to  your  room,  and  will 
then  order  supper.  What  will  you  have  ? " 

u  Nothing  but  a  cup  of  tea.  I  am  not  well  and 
can  eat  but  a  mouthful." 

He  led  the  way  up  one  flight  of  stairs  into  a 
small  room  above  the  parlor,  placed  the  light  (for 
it  was  now  quite  dark)  on  a  small  table  in  the 
room,  bowed  again  and  withdrew.  I  was  alone. 
Yes,  in  the  immense  building  filled  with  guests,  in 
the  very  heart  of  a  populous  city,  I  was  alone. 
There  was  not  a  soul  among  all  the  many  thou- 
sands almost  within  sound  of  my  voice  upon  whom 
I  could  call  for  assistance  of  any  kind,  for  comfort, 
or  even  sympathy.  I  had  fairly  launched  my 
frail  bark  upon  the  tempestuous  ocean  of  life,  and 
was  about  to  undertake  the  voyage  with  no  com- 
rade to  cheer  me,  no  chart  or  compass  to  guide  my 
wanderings,  and  no  hope  save  in  the  kindness  of 
an  overruling  Providence,  and  my  own  courage 
and  energy.  Ah  !  what  if  they  should  fail  me  at 
some  critical  moment  ?  I  looked  around  the  room. 
It  was  furnished  as  hotel  rooms  usually  are ;  a 
single  bed,  two  chairs,  a  wash-stand  and  small 
table,  while  a  hempen  carpet  covered  the  floor. 
There  was  nothing  peculiar  in  the  room,  but  it 


302  THE   LIFE   OF   A   BOOK   AGENT. 

seemed  to  me  that  I  could  see  the  word  "  failure  " 
written  on  every  article  it  contained.  Doubtless 
my  nervous  excitement  tended  to  give  the  room  a 
more  gloomy  look  than  it  really  possessed,  for  I 
afterward  found  it  to  be  one  of  the  most  pleasant 
rooms  in  the  house.  Such  is  the  influence  of  the 
mind  upon  our  outward  senses. 

At  length  there  was  a  tap  at  the  door,  and  the 
messenger  boy  came  in  to  tell  me  my  tea  was 
ready  and  show  me  the  way  to  the  dining-room. 
I  went  down  and  found  they  had  prepared  a  very 
fine  lunch  for  me,  for  it  was  past  the  usual  supper 
hour,  but  it  was  impossible  for  me  to  eat.  Every 
morsel  I  tried  to  swallow  seemed  to  choke  me,  and, 
after  drinking  part  of  a  cup  of  tea,  I  rose  from  the 
table  and  returned  to  my  room.  I  found  the  bit 
of  candle  with  which  it  was  supplied  had  entirely 
burned  out,  and  my  room  was  in  total  darkness. 
With  some  difficulty  I  found  the  bell  handle,  and 
rang  the  bell,  then  waited  patiently  in  darkness 
for  the  messenger,  my  heart  beating  so  violently 
that  I  could  hear  its  pulsations.  I  am  not  coward- 
ly, but  on  this  evening  I  was  so  much  oppressed 
with  my  own  feelings,  hopes,  doubts,  and  fears  for 
the  future,  that  I  felt  a  degree  of  timidity  entirely 
foreign  to  my  nature.  I  was  really  and  truly,  in 
feeling  and  character,  "  a  cat  in  a  strange  garret." 

The  boy  finally  came  and  brought  me  a  lamp, 
and,  as  soon  as  he  had  gone,  I  undressed  and  went 
to  bed,  but  not  to  sleep.  Fears  and  apprehensions 
of  failure  still  ran  riot  through  my  brain,  and  most 


THE   LIFE   OF    A    BOOK    AGENT.  303 

effectually  banished  slumber  from  my  eyelids. 
But  as  I  lay  and  tossed  upon  my  sleepless  couch, 
I  resolved  anew  that  no  such  word  as  failure  should 
be  found  in  my  vocabulary ;  by  my  energy  and 
industry  I  would  deserve  success,  and  if  it  did  not 
crown  my  efforts,  the  fault,  at  least,  should  not  be 
mine.  No ;  I  would  yet  show  that  I  could  live 
independent  of  Frank  C.  Ford  or  any  one  else ; 
that  I  could  carve  my  own  way  in  the  world,  in 
spite  of  the  frowns  of  fortune,  the  inconstancy  of 
friends,  or  the  treachery  of  those  from  whom  I  had 
a  right  to  expect  better  things.  This  was  my 
resolve  ;  how  it  has  been  carried  out  let  the  sequel 
show. 

I  rose  early  in  the  morning,  made  my  toilet,  and 
went  down  to  the  dining-room.  Breakfast  was 
just  ready;  the  long  hall  was  filled  with  guests 
and  boarders,  but,  though  I  scanned  each  one 
closely,  there  was  not  a  single  face  I  knew.  But  my 
nervousness  of  the  night  before  was  all  gone,  and  the 
fact  that  every  one  in  the  room  was  a  stranger  to  me 
did  not  annoy  or  discomfort  me  in  the  least.  Nay, 
it  was  rather  a  matter  of  gratification  to  me  that 
it  was  so  than  otherwise,  for  I  had  not  succeeded 
in  ridding  myself  entirely  of  the  idea,  so  sedulous- 
ly inculcated  by  sundry  newspapers,  that  there 
was  something  discreditable  about  the  business  I 
was  about  entering  upon,  and  I  rejoiced  in  the 
belief  that  my  first  attempt  was  to  be  made  entirely 
among  strangers.  I  have  since  learned  to  believe 
that  the  avocation  of  a  book  agent,  though  perhaps 


304  THE   LIFE   OF   A   BOOK   AGENT. 

less  elevated  in  the  judgment  of  the  world  than 
some  others,  is  still,  if  pursued  in  a  proper  and  be- 
coming manner,  just  as  creditable  as  any  other, 
and  certain  it  is  that  it  is  as  useful  and  beneficial 
to  society  as  many  others  which  might  be  named. 
It  is  undeniable  that  a  vast  deal  of  useful,  in- 
teresting and  beneficial  literature,  which  might 
otherwise  remain  for  years,  or  perhaps  forever,  in 
comparative  obscurity,  is  brought  prominently 
before  the  public  by  means  of  the  system  of  can- 
vassing now  so  much  in  vogue  among  publishers 
and  wholesale  and  retail  book  houses.  And 
surely  no  occupation  which  tends  so  directly  and 
so  powerfully  to  the  dissemination  of  light  and 
knowledge  among  the  masses,  as  does  book 
agency,  can  be  called  useless,  degrading,  or  disrep- 
utable. Through  the  efforts  of  the  book  agent, 
many  a  family,  who  otherwise  would  not  purchase 
a  book  of  any  kind  from  one  year's  end  to  another, 
is  induced  to  subscribe  for  some  work  of  interest 
and  benefit.  A  taste  for  reading  is  thereby  culti- 
vated, for  it  is  well  known  "  the  appetite  grows 
upon  what  it  feeds  upon,"  other  books  are  pur- 
chased, periodicals  are  subscribed  for,  and  in  time 
this  family,  first  reached  by  the  judicious  and 
persevering  efforts  of  that  much  abused  class  of 
individuals  of  whom  the  writer  is  proud  to  be  one, 
is  elevated  from,  the  slough  of  ignorance  in  which 
they  formerly  wallowed,  to  a  position  of  respecta- 
bility and  credit  among  the  intelligent  ones  of 
the  land.  This  is  no  picture  of  the  imagination. 


THE   LIFE   OF   A   BOOK    AGENT.  305 

The  writer  can  point  to  numerous  instances  in 
which,  a  taste  for  reading  and  literature  has  been 
first  developed  and  called  into  being  by  publica- 
tions of  which  she  was  the  fortunate  seller.  But, 
says  the  querulous,  objecting  fault-finder,  the 
business  is  not  followed  for  the  purpose  of  doing 
good,  but  only  to  put  money  into  the  purse  of  the 
agent.  Very  well,  my  cynical  friend,  what  avoca- 
tion do  you  follow?  Do  you  pursue  it  for  the 
purpose  solely  of  being  useful  to  your  fellow-men, 
or  is  not  the  hope  of  gain  a  slight — -just  a  very 
slight — incentive  to  your  exertions?  And  yet, 
you  would  be  hardly  willing  to  admit  that  your 
chosen  pursuit  was  on  that  account  useless,  and 
ought  to  be  frowned  out  of  existence  by  commu- 
nity, or  that  it  was  degrading  to  you.  And  why 
judge  us  more  harshly  than  you  are  willing  to  be 
judged?  No,  all  occupations,  not  in  themselves 
hurtful  or  immoral,  are  alike  honorable  and  use- 
ful, and  all  are  alike  pursued  by  their  respective 
votaries  for  the  purpose  of  gain.  The  accumula- 
tion of  money  is  the  prime  object  with  all,  and  no 
one  is  disgraced  by  following  any  laudable  em- 
ployment with  all  the  energy  God  has  given  him, 
simply  because  that  is  the  object.  Human  nature 
is  by  the  Omniscence  of  the  Almighty  so  consti- 
tuted that  all  occupations  and  all  professions  are 
necessary  to  each  other,  and  it  does  not  become 
the  follower  of  one  occupation  to  sneer  at  another, 
and  to  say,  "  I  am  more  respectable  and  more  use- 

20 


306  THE   LIFE    OF   A    BOOK   AGENT. 

ful  to  community  than  thou  art."     But  let  us  return 
from  this  digression. 

My  abstinence  of  the  evening  before,  together 
with  my  long  railroad  ride,  had  given  me  a  keen 
appetite  ;  we  had  a  good  breakfast,  and  the  reader 
may  be  assured  I  did  ample  justice  to  it.  Then, 
armed  with  the  veritable  old  basket  purchased  of 
my  friend  Mrs.  Gregg,  and  containing  my  subscrip- 
tion book  and  specimen  copy  of  the  book,  I  sallied 
forth  in  quest  of  subscribers.  It  must  be  confess- 
ed that  my  heart  palpitated  a  trifle  quicker  than 
usual,  as  I  approached  a  gentleman  and  asked  him 
to  look  at  my  book,  and,  if  it  pleased  him,  to  sub- 
scribe for  it.  He  was  the  proprietor  of  a  large  dry 
goods  store,  and  he  looked  at  the  book  with  so 
much  apparent  interest,  that  I  felt  very  confident 
my  first  attempt  in  the  line  of  my  new  business 
was  about  to  prove  a  success.  But  not  so.  After 
looking  at  it  for  some  time,  he  finally  handed  it 
back  to  me,  declining  to  subscribe ;  but  his  refusal 
was  couched  in  such  kind  and  gentlemanly  terms, 
that  so  far  from  feeling  disheartened  by  this  first 
failure,  I  was  rather  encouraged  than  otherwise. 
Had  I  met  with  such  an  unkind  and  ill-natured  re- 
fusal as  I  have  since  frequently  done,  I  am  by  no 
means  sure  but  my  book  agency  would  have  ter- 
minated then  and  there,  for  my  spirits  were  not 
then  strong  enough  to  endure  a  very  severe  rebuff. 

But  his  kindly  disposition  encouraged  me,  and 
I  turned  from  that  first  interview  more  resolved 
than  ever  that  success  should  finally  crown  my 


THE   LIFE   OF    A   BOOK    AGENT.  307 

efforts.  I  left  the  old  gentleman  and  went  into 
another  store  where  my  utmost  efforts  to  obtain  a 
single  subscriber  were  doomed  to  disappointment. 
There  were  several  clerks  there,  all  of  whom  look- 
ed at  the  book,  but  none  were  willing  to  invest  any 
amount  in  it.  And  the  same  result  attended  my 
application  at  several  stores  in  the  same  vicinity; 
all  declined  to  subscribe.  The  reasons  given  for 
refusal  were  as  various  and  as  numerous  as  the 
persons  to  whom  application  was  made.  One  said  : 
"  I  would  take  the  book,  but  have  no  place  to  keep 
it ;  "  another,  "  That  is  not  my  style  of  reading  at 
all ; "  another,  "  I  am  not  able  to  buy  it ;  "  while 
still  another,  belonging  to  the  class  who  believe 
everybody  dishonest,  perhaps  because  they  judge 
others  by  themselves,  perhaps  from  some  other 
cause,  said :  "  I  never  subscribe  for  anything ;  if  I 
want  a  book,  I  go  and  buy  it,  but  no  book  agents 
for  me."  I  have  often  since  heard  the  same  reason 
given,  and  I  never  heard  it  without  thinking  to 
myself  that  the  utterer  would  take  the  last  crust  of 
bread  from  a  widow  and  her  starving  children  pro- 
vided he  could  do  so  with  safety ;  that  nature  de- 
signed him  for  a  knave  and  sharper,  and  that 
nothing  but  lack  of  opportunity,  want  of  ability, 
or  the  fear  of 'law  prevented  him  from  becoming 
one.  No  man  ever  charged  all  his  fellow-men  with 
being  dishonest  unless  he  was  conscious  of  some 
want  of  principle  himself,  or,  unless  he  was  de- 
ficient in  good  sound  sense,  and  thought  to  acquire 
a  reputation  for  being  sharp  by  suspecting  the 


308  THE   LIFE   OF  A   BOOK   AGENT. 

motives  and  intentions  of  everybody  else.  But 
those  who  belong  to  the  latter  class  can  rest  assur- 
ed that,  so  far  from  achieving  such  reputation, 
they  are  certain  to  be  rated  at  their  true  value  by 
those  who  listen  to  their  silly  pretensions. 

And  thus  the  time  wore  away.  I  visited  place 
after  place,  and  tried  in  vain  to  awaken  sufficient 
interest  in  my  book  to  induce  somebody  to  buy  it, 
until  the  forenoon  was  nearly  spent ;  nothing  had 
been  done,  and  I  was  almost  disheartened.  It 
seemed  almost  impossible  for  me  to  go  back  to  my 
hotel  without  at  least  one  subscriber,  and  yet  the 
prospect  that  I  would  be  compelled  to  do  so  seem- 
ed very  bright.  Coming  at  length  to  a  flight  of 
stairs  running  up  from  the  street,  I  mechanically 
ascended  them,  though,  it  must  be  confessed,  with 
but  little  hope  of  effecting  anything.  Near  the 
head  of  the  stairs  was  a  law  office,  occupied  by  a 
Mr.  King,  and  I  hesitated  some  time  whether  to 
venture  in  there  or  not,  but  finally  decided  to  try 
it.  Mr.  King  received  me  in  a  very  gentlemanly 
manner,  listened  courteously  to  my  request,  ex- 
amined the  book,  and,  better  than  all,  subscribed 
for  it.  Eureka  !  I  have  made  a  beginning  at  last. 
The  ice  was  broken,  and,  with  renewed  confidence, 
I  went  in  search  of  further  patronage,  for  I  now 
had  a  name  to  which  I  could  refer  those  whom  I 
solicited  to  subscribe. 

The  next  room  was  occupied  by  a  lawyer  by  the 
name  of  Brown.  As  soon  as  I  showed  him  my 
book,  and  told  him  Mr.  King  had  subsmbfMl — 


THE   LIFE    OF   A    BOOK    AGENT.  309 

"  Well,"  said  he,  in  an  abrupt,  but  pleasant  sort 
of  way,  "  if  King  can  stand  it,  I  guess  I  can."  And 
down  went  his  name.  Just  across  the  hall  was  a 
sign  informing  the  public  that  H.  M.  Harris  dis- 
pensed law  (and,  I  suppose,  justice,)  to  those  who 
were  in  need  of  his  services,  and  I  went  in  there. 
Upon  making  my  business  known,  Mr.  Harris  at 
once  put  his  name  down.  I  went  down  that  flight 
of  stairs  with  a  much  lighter  heart  than  when  I 
went  up.  Three  subscribers  had  been  secured, 
and  they  were  names  which  would  be  available  to 
me  as  references  in  my  future  canvassing.  And 
in  the  very  next  room  I  found  proof  of  this  opin- 
ion. It  was  a  shoe-store,  situated  at  the  foot  of 
the  staircase  I  had  just  decended.  The  gentleman 
in  attendance  received  me  very  politely,  and  when 
my  book  was  presented  for  his  inspection,  seemed 
very  much  pleased  with  it,  and  in  answer  to  my 
remark  that  I  had  just  commenced  canvassing,  and 
had  only  taken  three  names,  asked  to  see  my  list. 
I  handed  it  to  him. 

"  H.  M.  Harris ;  good   lawyer    and   good  man. 
W.  P.  Brown ;  I  know  him :  he  is  a  fine  fellow. 
And  King,  too — Madam,  you  have  three  of  the  best 
names  in  Peoria.     How  much  did  you  say  ? " 
"  Two  dollars  and  seventy-five  cents." 
"  I  will  take  one.     When  will  you  deliver  ? " 
u  I  will  bring  the  book  in  a  few  days.     Good 
morning,  sir." 

"  Good  morning,  madam.     Success  to  you." 

I  went  into  the  next  store ;  but  there  my  good 


310  THE   LIFE   OF    A   BOOK   AGENT. 

names  availed  me  nothing.  They  wanted  nothing 
of  the  kind — would  not  even  look  at  my  book,  or 
even  hardly  let  me  tell  them  what  it  was.  It  is 
just  barely  possible,  from  what  I  have  since  learn- 
ed of  the  politics  of  that  establishment,  that  the 
last  word  in  the  title  of  the  book  was  offensive  to 
the  propriet  or,  and  hence  his  very  abrupt  refusal  to 
look  at  it.  This  did  not,  however,  occur  to  me  at 
the  time.  I  only  thought  he  was  decidedly  mean 
in  refusing  to  look  at  the  work  at  all.  I  thought, 
even  if  he  did  not  wish  to  subscribe,  he  might  at 
least  have  treated  me  kindly,  and  refused  in  a 
gentlemanly  manner.  But,  never  mind ;  I  had 
already,  in  the  first  half  day  of  my  canvassing, 
sold  four  copies ;  and  this  was  anything  but  dis- 
couraging. 

It  was  now  noon,  and  time  for  me  to  return  to 
my  hotel  for  dinner.  But  with  how  much  more 
elation  of  spirits  I  entered  that  hotel  than  I  had 
quitted  it  in  the  morning  the  reader  may  well  im- 
agine. My  success  in  the  avocation  I  had  chosen 
seemed  to  me  now  assured,  and  the  idea  of  fail- 
ure was  now  forever  banished  from  my  cogitations. 
In  proportion  as  my  spirits  had  been  depressed 
before  fairly  entering  upon  my  work,  they  were 
now  elated ;  and  visions  of  wealth  and  ease  arose 
before  me.  My  mind  was  just  as  much  in  fault  in 
one  instance  as  in  the  other,  and  I  had  yet  much 
to  learn  in  regard  to  my  new  profession.  I  had 
yet  to  learn  that,  because  one  half  day's  labor  had 
been  attended  with  some  degree  of  profit,  I  was 


THE    LIFE    OF    A    BOOK    AGENT.  311 

not  to  regard  my  success  as  fully  assured ;  but 
that  in  this,  as  well  as  in  all  other  avocations, 
constant,  energetic  and  judicious  perseverance 
was  necessary  to  attain  one's  object ;  that  re- 
verses of  various  kinds  were  to  be  anticipated,  and 
that  the  book  agent  who  fancied  his  calling  an 
easy  as  well  as  lucrative  one,  vwas  doomed  to  the 
most  certain  and  painful  disappointment.  That 
the  business  is  profitable  if  well  and  judiciously 
pursued  is  undoubtedly  true ;  but  it  is  equally 
true  that  it  is  profitable  only  when  pursued  with 
the  most  ceaseless  and  indefatigable  energy. 

After  dinner  was  over — and,  by  the  way,  I  ate 
much  more  heartily  than  at  breakfast,  from  some 
cause  or  other — I  went  up  into  the  parlor.  There 
was  a  large  number  of  ladies  in  the  room,  and 
the  idea  occurred  to  me  that  it  would  be  a  good 
time  to  exhibit  a  pleasing,  as  well  as  profitable 
combination  of  business  and  pleasure.  Accord- 
ingly, I  went  up  and  got  my  book,  and  asked 
the  ladies  to  look  at  it ;  telling  them  I  had  arrived 
in  the  city  only  the  night  before ;  had  been  out 
that  morning,  and  had  sold  four  copies,  and  that  I 
hoped  to  sell  a  large  number  in  that  very  room 
before  going  out  again.  The  book  seemed  to 
please  them  very  well ;  for  five  of  them  put  their 
names  down  at  once,  and  others  said  they  would 
subscribe  as  soon  as  they  could  see  their  husbands. 
While  we  were  still  talking  about  the  book,  a 
young  man  came  in  to  call  on  a  young  lady  who 
was  in  the  room,  and  she  at  once  besought  him  to 


312  THE   LIFE   OP   A   BOOK   AGENT. 

make  her  a  present  of  the  book.  Of  course  he 
could  not  very  well  refuse,  and  down  went  the 
name  of  Miss  Kate  Freeman,  the  gentleman 
handing  me  two  dollars  and  seventy-five  cents, 
and  telling  me  to  deliver  the  book  to  her  when 
it  came. 

I  fancied  I  had  now  done  a  very  good  day's  work, 
and,  as  I  had  some  letters  to  write,  decided  not  to 
go  out  that  afternoon  at  all.  I  accordingly  wrote 
to  Mr.  Holland  to  send  me  twenty  copies  of  the 
book,  the  price  to  be  collected  on  delivery  by  the 
express  company,  and  then  set  about  finding  some 
place  where  my  living  would  be  less  expensive 
than  at  the  Peoria  House.  Although  my  business 
appeared  to  be  prosperous,  still  two  dollars  a  day 
was  a  heavy  drain  on  my  finances,  and  one  that  I 
was  anxious  to  avoid  if  possible.  I  found  a  very 
pleasant  place  with  a  most  estimable  lady,  and 
secured  a  room  at  six  dollars  a  week,  and  then 
went  to  settle  my  bill  at  the  hotel  and  move  to  my 
new  home.  At  the  Peoria  House  my  bill  was  two 
dollars  and  a  half,  and  a  drayman  took  my  trunk 
to  my  boarding  house  for  twenty-five  cents  ;  so 
that  I  arrived  there  with  just  the  same  amount  of 
money  I  had  on  arriving  in  the  city,  to  wit,  ten 
cents.  But  I  did  not  feel  as  much  disheartened  as 
then ;  for  I  now  had  on  the  subscription  book, 
which  was  then  a  blank,  no  less  than  ten  names, 
cjach  of  which  was  worth  a  dollar  to  me ;  that  be- 
ing the  profit  allowed  me  on  each  copy  sold. 
Even  if  I  did  not  take  another  name  this  week,  I 


THE   LIFE   OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  313 

would  still  be  able  to  pay  my  board  and  have 
some  money  left ;  and,  of  course,  it  was  not  to  be 
expected  that  I  would  do  nothing  in  that  time.  I 
liked  the  business,  and  certainly  my  prospects 
were  all  that  could  be  desired. 

After  a  good  night's  rest  in  my  new  place  of 
abode,  I  went  to  work  again  with  vigor,  and  worked 
hard  all  the  next  day,  excepting  only  the  time  abso- 
lutely necessary  to  go  to  my  meals,  and,  when  I 
came  to  count  up  the  proceeds  of  the  labor  of  the 
day,  found  that  my  list  had  been  increased  by 
eleven  names.  I  now  had,  in  all,  twenty-one 
names,  representing,  as  the  net  proceeds  of  two 
days'  canvassing,  no  less  than  twenty-one  dollars 
in  my  purse.  True  the  money  was  not  in  my 
hands  yet,  but  then  I  felt  sure  of  it  all.  Surely  it 
would  not  be  difficult  for  me  to  live  at  that  rate. 
Twenty-one  dollars  in  two  days,  was  more  than  in 
the  wildest  dreams  of  my  imagination  I  had  ever 
dared  to  hope.  Who  would  not  be  a  book  agent 
when  such  returns  as  this  were  received  ?  But,  on 
the  other  hand,  who  would  be  a  book  agent  when 
such  scenes  as  are  described  in  my  opening  chapter 
are  presented  ?  But  in  my  experiance  the  good 
has  far  outweighed  the  evil  since  adopting  my 
present  calling. 

The  next  day  I  canvassed  all  day,  and  came 
home  at  night  with  eight  new  names,  and  one  of 
them,  a  gentleman  boarding  at  the  same  house, 
had  paid  me  in  advance  lor  his  copy,  upon  condi- 
tion that  he  should  be  allowed  to  read  my  copy  at 


314  THE   LIFE    OF    A    BOOK    AGENT. 

once.  To  this  I  agreed  upon  the  further  condition 
that,  inasmuch  as  I  had  never  read  the  book  my- 
self, he  should  read  it  aloud  to  me.  I  would  then 
be  much  better  prepared  to  explain  the  character 
of  the  book,  and  doubted  not  the  effect  upon  my 
sales  would  be  very  considerable.  I  found  the 
book  to  be  very  interesting,  and  well  worth  the 
price  asked  for  it. 

The  next  day  my  efforts  were  rewarded  with  the 
addition  of  six  names  to  my  already  very  respect- 
able list.  It  is  true  my  sales  to-day  had  not  equal- 
ed those  of  either  of  the  other  days,  but  still  six 
dollars  was  no  mean  day's  work,  and  could  I  only 
be  assured  of  that  each  day  of  my  labor,  it  would 
be  very  satisfactory.  At  any  rate  it  would  afford 
me  a  very  comfortable  living,  and  enable  me  to 
"  lay  up  something  for  a  rainy  day,"  and  for  old 
age.  And  this  is  all  any  one  ought  to  ask  in  this 
world,  for  it  is  all  that  is  really  worth  having. 

In  the  evening  I  went  to  the  express  office,  and 
found  that  my  twenty  copies  had  come,  but  there 
was  no  less  than  thirty-five  dollars  to  be  paid  on 
them,  and  my  purse  contained,  in  treasury-note 
and  postage  currency,  the  sum  of  two  dollars  and 
eighty-five  cents,  all  told.  I  counted  it  over  and 
over  again  in  the  vain  hope  that  more  could  be 
made  of  it,  but  the  result  was  just  the  same  every 
time — one  two-dollar  bill,  one  fifty-cents  piece,  one 
twenty-five  cent  piece,  and  one  ten  cent  piece,  all 
current  money  of  the  United  States,  was  everything 
I  could  find.  The  agent  observed  my  perplexity 


THE   LIFE    OF    A    BOOK    AGENT.  315 

and  kindly  relieved  me  from  my  difficulty,  after 
asking  some  questions,  by  telling  me  to  take  one 
book  and  deliver  it ;  then  with  the  proceeds  of  that 
sale  get  another,  and  so  on  until  the  whole  were 
taken. 

How  gladly  I  accepted  his  offer.  I  paid  him  one 
dollar  and  three  quarters  for  one  book,  then  got 
the  money  for  that  and  had  enough  to  get  two 
more ;  then  got  three  and  delivered  them,  paying 
in  each  time  what  money  I  received  until  the  whole 
twenty  were  delivered,  and  I  had  twenty  dollars 
in  my  purse.  Twenty  dollars  did  I  say  ?  Let  me 
not  forget  the  faithful  ten  cents  which  had  stood 
by  me  so  long.  I  had  twenty  dollars  and  ten 
cents,  less,  of  course,  the  amount  paid  at  the  hotel, 
and  the  amount  I  paid  the  drayman  for  moving 
me  to  my  present  very  comfortable  quarters. 

But  why  inflict  upon  my  readers  the  details  of 
each  day's  work  ?  Why  annoy  them  with  the  par- 
ticulars of  each  refusal  I  met  with,  from  purse- 
proud,  haughty,  self-sufficient  individuals,  who 
could  see  nothing  meritorious  in  a  woman  strug- 
gling against  adverse  fate  to  earn  an  honest  liveli- 
hood, or  in  the  book  which  such  a  woman  would 
sell — why  mention  the  covert  sneers,  under  the 
cloak  of  friendly  advice,  with  which  my  applica- 
tions were  often  met  by  those  who  claimed  to  be 
gentlemen,  but  whose  gentility  would  never  be 
recognized  by  the  world,  but  for  this  claim — why 
recount  the  particulars  of  the  kindly  words  and 
friendly  wishes,  which  with  some  noble  natures 


316  THE   LIFE    OF    A    BOOK    AGENT. 

even  took  away  the  pain  of  their  refusal,  and  which 
were  really  strengthening  to  my  soul — I  say,  why 
burden  the  pages  of  this  record  with  all  these  ? 
Suffice  it  to  say  that  when  my  weekly  report  for 
the  week  ending  on  Saturday  was  sent  to  the  gen- 
eral agent,  I  was  able  to  report  sales  of  no  less  than 
forty  copies. 

Forty  subscribers  in  one  week !  Only  think  of 
that!  Forty  dollars  earned  fairly  and  honestly 
by  my  own  honest  toil !  Why,  Ford  only  received 
fifty-five  dollars  a  month  from  the  railroad  com- 
pany, and  I  could  earn  nearly  that  amount  in  a 
week.  Hurrah  for  the  life  of  a  book  agent !  No 
more  washing  for  the  miserable  pittance  of  a  few 
dollars  a  day — that  was  "played  out,"  to  use  a 
slang  phrase.  No,  indeed.  I  was  far  above  that 
sort  of  labor.  I  would  soon  be  rich.  I  would  save 
all  the  money  I  earned,  and,  in  a  short  time,  would 
be  able  not  only  to  redeem  my  watch  ;  but  my  dar- 
ling pets,  my  precious  canary  birds — they,  too, 
were  in  pawn,  and  must  be  redeemed.  Oh !  yes,  I 
had  use  for  all  the  money  I  could  earn,  and  it  could 
not  come  too  fast. 

Such,  dear  reader,  were  the  reflections  caused  by 
my  first  flush  of  success  in  the  business  of  a  book 
agent.  How  these  reflections  and  these  hopes  have 
been  realized  will  appear  in  the  subsequent  pages 
of  this  book. 


CHAPTER    XX. 

I  CLOSED  my  last  chapter  with  an  account  of  my 
first  week's  work  as  a  book  agent,  and  certainly 
the  results  of  that  week  were  sufficient  to  justify 
the  most  sanguine  anticipations  for  the  future. 
But,  like  everything  else,  the  business  had  its  ups 
and  downs ;  its  dark  as  well  as  its  light  seasons  ; 
its  rainy  days  as  well  as  its  sunshine ;  and, 
having  had  a  season  of  the  latter,  I  was  now  about 
to  take  my  turn  at  the  former. 

On  Sunday  it  began  to  rain,  and  continued  near- 
ly the  entire  day :  not  a  fierce,  dashing  rain,  such 
as,  by  its  very  violence,  gives  the  very  best  possi- 
ble evidence  of  speedy  cessation  ;  but  a  dull,  driz- 
zling rain,  which,  while  it  is  sufficiently  violent  to 
heep  one  within  doors,  not  unfrequently  lasts  a 
week  or  more :  just  the  kind  of  rain  to  dampen 
one's  ardor  in  any  enterprise,  and  most  effectually 
depress  the  spirits.  How  I  hoped  it  would  not 
rain  on  Monday !  With  what  eager  anxiety,  as 
evening  approached,  did  I  scan  the  horizon  in 
hopes  of  detecting  some  indications  of  an  abate- 
ment of  the  storm,  which,  if  it  continued,  would  be 
very  likely  to  prevent  me  from  doing  anything 
the  next  day.  Vain  hope.  The  sun  went  down 
with  his  face  entirely  hidden  in  clouds ;  and,  as 
the  shades  of  night  rapidly  gathered  around,  the 

(317) 


318  THE   LIFE   OF   A   BOOK   AGENT. 

storm,  instead  of  giving  any  indications  of  abate- 
ment, seemed  to  thicken  and  gather  additional 
force,  and  I  finally  retired  to  rest  with  the  convic- 
tion that  the  next  day  would  be  marked  "  lost  "  in 
my  calendar. 

And  the  morning  did  not  give  the  lie  to  my  an- 
ticipations of  the  evening  before.  It  seemed  to  me, 
as  I  gazed  at  the  dull,  leaden  sky,  and  listened  to 
the  dreary,  monotonous  patter  of  the  falling  rain, 
that  a  more  gloomy  or  dismal  day  had  never  dawn- 
ed upon  rny  vision,  and  I  knew  not  what  to  do. 
At  one  time  I  thought  that,  in  spite  of  the  elements 
and  in  defiance  of  the  wrath  of  the  storm-king,  I 
would  venture  out  and  try  to  do  something.  It 
really  seemed  to  me  that  the  state  of  my  finances 
would  not  admit  of  my  losing  the  day  ;  that  I  could 
not  afford  to  be  idle,  but  must  go  to  work,  rain  or 
shine,  at  any  and  all  hazards.  But,  then,  no  one 
would  buy  books  on  such  a  day  as  this.  My  efforts 
to  do  anything  would  be  unavailing,  and  wouldr 
perhaps,  only  result  in  inducing  a  fit  of  sickness, 
which  would  not  only  cause  me  to  lose  much  more 
time,  but  would  absorb  all  my  little  accumulation 
of  the  last  week. 

Accordingly  I  decided  not  to  go  out,  but  to  put  in 
that  day  at  least  in  reading  my  book,  make  myself 
acquainted  with  it,  and  trust  kind  fortune  for  the 
morrow.  But  fortune,  at  least  so  far  as  the  weather 
was  concerned,  refused  to  smile  upon  me.  The 
next  day  the  storm  still  continued  and  still  I  staid 


THE    LIFE    OF    A    BOOK    AGENT.  319 

at  home.  ,  On  Wednesday  it  was  the  same  and  my 
spirits  sank  to  the  lowest  possible  ebb. 

The  next  day  I  resolved  to  wait  no  longer,  but 
to  go  to  work  in  spite  of  the  weather,  and  trust  my 
own  determined  energy  to  accomplish  something. 
Accordingly  I  borrowed  an  umbrella  of  one  of  the 
lady  boarders,  went  out  and  bought  one  for  myself; 
then,  with  my  dress  looped  up  to  keep  it  out  of  the 
mud,  and  my  faithful  old  basket  on  my  arm,  I  set 
out  upon  my  doubtful  mission. 

I  went  to  a  large  building,  the  second  story  of 
which  was  filled  with  offices,  for  I  had  found  that 
the  men  usually  termed  professional  were  those 
who  most  liberally  patronized  me,  and  if  anything 
at  all  could  be  done,  it  would  most  certainly  be 
among  that  class.  The  first  place  I  visited  was  the 
office  of  a  celebrated  physician  of  the  city.  He 
was  sitting  with  his  feet  upon  a  table,  his  hands 
clasped  behind  his  head,  and  gazing  moodily  out 
of  the  window.  I  accosted  him  and  explained  my 
business  to  him. 

"  The  day  is  too  dull  and  gloomy  to  buy  or  r.ead 
books,"  said  he,  without  changing  his  position  in 
the  least. 

"  But,  Doctor,  consider.  A  gentleman  certainly 
ought  to  be  willing  to  patronize  a  lady  who  has 
the  hardihood  to  go  out  on  such  a  day  as  this." 

"Well,  why  don't  you  get  married,  and  then 
you  will  not  have  to  go  out  to  work  on  such  days 
as  this?" 

"  Thank  you,  sir.     I  am  not  on  the  marriage  list. 


320  THE   LIFE   OF   A   BOOK    AGENT. 

I  do  not  think  I  would  be  any  better  off  married 
than  I  am  unmarried.  But  will  you  subscribe  for 
my  book?" 

"  Did  I  not  tell  you  I  would  not  ?  " 

"  No,  sir  ;  you  said  no  such  thing.  But  even  if 
you  had  said  it,  I  am  sure  you  would  not  allow  my 
industry  on  such  a  day  as  this  to  go  unrewarded." 

"What  is  your  industry  to  me?  Why  should  I 
care  whether  you  are  industrious  or  not  ? " 

"  Because  it  is  natural  for  every  industrious  man 
to  like  to  see  others  as  much  so  as  himself." 

"  But  how  do  you  know  that  I  am  industrious  ?  " 

"Because,  no  man  without  the  greatest  amount 
of  industry  could  attain  to  the  eminence  you  have 
in  your  profession.  Come,  Doctor,  give  me  your 
name." 

"  Well,  you  are  certainly  persevering,  as  well  as 
industrious,  and  you  deserve  to  succeed.  It  shall 
not  be  my  fault  if  you  do  not." 

With  that  he  put  his  name  down  on  my  list. 
The  little  bit  of  flattery  in  which  I  indulged, 
though  very  barefaced,  had  evidently  found  the 
weak  spot  in  his  armor  and  settled  the  business 
for  him.  I  thanked  him,  and  went  out  from  his 
presence  smiling  to  myself  at  the  ease  with  which 
I  had  penetrated  his  reserve. 

My  next  stopping  place  was  an  insurance  office. 
Sundry  brass  plates  and  signs  gave  information 
that  the  occupant  was  fully  prepared  to  insure 
against  fire,  death,  sickness,  accident,  and  every- 
thing else,  while  the  walls  were  covered  with  show 


THE   LIFE   OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  321 

cards  of  every  description,  setting  forth  the  special 
merits  of  each  particular  company  represented 
there.  At  the  desk  sat  a  gruff,  cross-looking  old 
man,  and,  at  the  first  glance,  my  heart  sank  at  the 
prospect  of  making  any  impression  on  him.  How- 
ever, I  would  not  go  away  without  trying,  and  so  I 
approached  him. 

"  I  have  called  this  morning,  sir,  in  hopes  to  sell 
you  a  book.  It  is  just  published,  and  is  very  in- 
teresting. Will  you  look  at  it  ?  " 

"  No ;  I  don't  want  to  buy  any  books.  Go  away. 
Don't  bother  me.  Don't  you  see  I  am  busy  ?  " 

"  But,  sir,  I  think  if  you  would  look  at  this,  you 
would  subscribe  for  it." 

"  I  tell  you,  I  don't  want  it.  I  never  subscribe 
for  books." 

"  I  have  come  out  this  dismal,  rainy  day,  to  try 
to  earn  an  honest  living.  Please,  sir,  look  at  my 
book  :  I  think  your  daughter  would  like  it." 

"  Who  told  you  I  had  a  daughter  ? " 

"  No  one,  sir." 

"  How  did  you  know  it,  then  ?  " 

"  I  only  thought  so.  You  look  like  the  kind,  in- 
dulgent father  of  a  lovely  daughter.  Have  you  a 
daughter,  sir?" 

"  Yes  ;  I  have  as  lovely  a  daughter  as  any  par- 
ent need  wish.  Let  me  look  at  your  book." 

"Here  it  is,  sir." 

u  It  is  very  nicely  bound,  and  appears  to  be  read- 
able. I  guess  my  girl  would  like  it.  Let  me  see 
your  list  of  names.  You  have  a  good  many  sub- 

21 


322  THE   LIFE   OF   A   BOOK   AGENT. 

scribers,  but  my  daughter's  name  is  not  here  ;  so  I 
will  put  it  down,  and  you  can  deliver  the  book 
here." 

"  Thank  you,  sir." 

"  There,  you  have  got  me  to  subscribe  after  I 
said  I  would  not :  now,  take  your  traps  and  be  off. 
You  touched  me  in  the  right  place  when  you  spoke 
of  my  girl." 

"  Good  day,  sir." 

And  as  I  went  down  stairs  I  almost  laughed 
aloud  at  the  result  of  my  little  impromptu  strata- 
gem for  circumventing  old  "  Crusty,"  as  I  have 
named  him.  Should  he  see  this  book  he  will 
recognize  the  circumstances  above  related,  and  may 
not  feel  specially  honored  by  the  patronymic  here 
given  him.  But  he  must  learn  to  be  more  civil  to 
callers,  even  if  they  do  not  come  to  have  their  lives 
or  property  insured,  and  thus  put  money  in  his 
purse. 

I  called  at  several  other  places  that  forenoon, 
but  with  uniform  want  of  success.  Not  another 
name  could  I  obtain,  either  by  persuasion,  entreaty 
or  stratagem.  Well,  two  names  in  half  a  day,  and 
such  a  day  as  this,  too,  is  better  than  nothing,  and 
I  will  e'en  go  home  to  dinner,  and  hope  for  better 
luck  next  time.  But  in  the  afternoon  the  rain  was 
even  worse  than  in  the  morning,  and  go  out  I  could 
not,  though  it  seemed  almost  impossible  for  me  to 
be  idle.  It  had  taken  all  I  had  made  last  week  to 
pay  my  way  thus  far  and  redeem  my  watch  and 
birds  (which  I  had  already  done),  except  six  dol- 


THE   LIFE    OF   A   BOOK    AGENT.  323 

lars  and  a  few  cents.  I  could  pay  my  board  that 
week,  but  where  was  the  means  to  come  from  to 
pay  the  next  ?  Still,  it  would  not  help  matters  any 
to  fret  over  it ;  and  all  that  could  be  done  was  to 
wait,  and  hope,  and  pray  for  better  weather. 

It  was  well  for  me  that  I  made  hay  while  the  sun 
shone,  for  it  was  utterly  out  of  the  question  for  me 
to  do  anything  more  that  week.  The  rain  poured 
down  so  unceasingly  that  it  seemed  to  me  it  must 
stop  from  sheer  exhaustion  of  the  elements  long 
before  it  did. 

Saturday  evening  finally  came,  and  my  weekly 
report  had  to  be  sent  forward  to  the  general  agent. 
The  weather  had  not  admitted  of  my  doing  any- 
thing more,  and  I  had  but  the  two  names  to  report 
instead  of  the  forty  which  had  crowned  my  first 
week's  labors  in  this  place.  The  contrast  was  so 
great  that  I  was  almost  tempted  not  to  send  any 
report,  but,  upon  reflection,  concluded  that  the 
matter  could  be  so  explained  as  to  leave  no  un- 
pleasant impressions  on  the  mind  of  the  general 
agent.  Most  certainly  the  horrid,  rainy  weather 
of  the  past  week  was  a  sufficient  excuse  for  the 
small  amount  of  work  done.  Accordingly,  I  sent 
off  the  document  with  such  explanation  as  I  could 
give,  and  in  due  time  received  a  letter  from  the 
general  agent  to  the  effect  that  it  was  satisfactory, 
and  wishing  me  better  luck  in  the  future. 

Sunday  was  a  clear  day,  and  I  thought  that  the 
storm-god  had  exhausted  his  forces,  and  that  I 
would  surely  go  to  work  on  Monday  with  some 


324  THE   LIFE   OF   A   BOOK   AGENT. 

prospect  of  success.  But  when  the  morning  came 
I  found  that  he  had  only  been  accumulating  fresh 
strength  for  the  next  day,  for  it  poured  down  hard- 
er than  ever,  and  all  hope  of  doing  anything  for 
that  day  was  at  an  end.  I  had  paid  the  landlady 
my  board  for  the  week  just  closed,  and  had  but  a 
few  cents  left  in  my  pocket ;  and  unless  the  weather 
cleared  up  soon,  I  should  have  nothing  when  the 
next  installment  became  due.  But,  be  that  as  it 
might,  it  was  now  very  clear  that  nothing  could  be 
done  that  day,  and  I  therefore  made  no  effort  to  go 
out  at  all. 

Tuesday  came,  and  it  was  still  no  better,  and 
another  day  was  lost,  and  I  was  getting  almost 
discouraged.  But  I  tried  to  do  a  little  something. 
I  went  out  in  the  afternoon  and  went  to  all  the 
public  offices,  but  all  my  efforts  were  in  vain.  No 
one  would  subscribe  ;  and  heart-sick  and  weary  I 
wended  my  way  home  again  in  the  evening,  almost 
willing  to  surrender  my  agency  and  resort  to  some 
other  means  of  earning  a  livelihood.  Indeed,  had 
I  been  able  at  that  time  to  think  of  something  else 
which  promised  sufficient  returns  to  support  me,  it 
is  very  likely  I  should  have  embraced  it ;  but  all 
around  me  were  strangers,  and  with  no  one  to 
recommend  or  aid  me,  nothing  could  be  done  aside 
from  the  path  already  marked  out,  and  all  I  could 
do  was  to  take  the  bad  weather  with  what  patience 
I  could  muster ;  and,  by  this  time,  my  small  stock 
of  that  virtue  so  necessary  to  every  book  agent  was 
well-nigh  exhausted. 


THE   LIFE   OF    A    BOOK    AGENT.  325 

And  so  the  week  passed  away  in  rain  and  mud 
and  idleness.  It  is  true  that  on  Thursday,  with  a 
sort  of  reckless  energy,  I  went  out  for  a  wliile,  and 
tried  to  redeem  a  part  of  the  lost  past ;  but,  after 
spending  half  an  hour  or  more  in  inducing  one 
man  to  subscribe,  I  gave  up  in  despair,  and  went 
home  again,  fully  resolved  that  even  the  prospect 
of  starvation  should  not  attempt  me  to  go  out 
again  until  the  weather  moderated  and  the  storm 
ceased. 

And  thus,  finally,  Saturday  came,  and  I  had  but 
one  solitary  subscriber  to  report.  If  I  felt  ashamed 
and  mortified  at  sending  in  my  report  of  the  week 
before,  what  must  have  been  my  feelings  now,  that 
the  amount  of  this  week's  sales  was  but  half  as 
large  ?  But  there  was  no  help  for  it.  The  report 
must  be  sent,  and  the  apparent  failure  must  be 
explained  as  best  I  was  able. 

But  there  was  a  still  more  serious  consideration 
than  the  smallness  of  my  report  to  the  general 
agent.  My  weekly  board-bill  was  due  to-day, 
and  where  was  the  money  to  come  from  to  pay  it? 
And  not  only  this  week,  but  others  would  come, 
and  even  if  my  indebtedness  on  this  account  were 
now  paid,  what  provision  could  be  made  for  the 
future?  Such  horrid  weather  as  we  had  been 
having  for  the  past  two  weeks  would  most  effect- 
ually keep  me  from  earning  any  money,  but  it 
would  not  prevent  my  weekly  bills  from  becoming 
due,  nor  would  it  keep  my  landlady  from  demand- 


326  THE   LIFE    OF    A    BOOK   AGENT. 

ing  payment  or  sending  me  adrift,  if  I  failed  to 
comply  with  her  very  just  demands. 

This,  dear  reader,  was  the  gloomy  day  referred 
to  in  my  opening  chapter.  This  was  the  day  upon 
which,  for  the  second  time,  I  pawned  my  watch — 
not  my  watch,  but  brother's  watch — a  precious 
treasure,  and  which  nothing  but  death,  or  the 
demand  of  him  from  whom  I  first  received  it,  shall 
ever  take  from  me.  I  hardly  knew  how  to  part 
with  it  the  second  time,  so  soon  after  redeeming 
it ;  but  I  could  not  starve,  and  I  am  sure,  if  brother 
should  read  these  lines,  he  will  not  blame  me  for 
thus  temporarily  parting  with  it  to  avoid  that  or 
a  worse  fate.  Be  assured  that  nothing  shall  in- 
duce me  to  part  with  it  permanently  so  long  as  life 
and  reason  are  spared  to  me. 

But  just  now  my  situation  was  gloomy  in  the 
extreme.  Six  dollars  must  be  paid  weekly  for  my 
board  or  I  must  leave  my  present  place  of  abode, 
and  then  what  could  be  done  ?  I  had  only  made 
one  dollar  this  week,  and  even  that  I  had  not  re- 
ceived ;  for  I  could  not  order  a  solitary  copy  of  the 
work,  and  must  wait  until  the  weather  would  en- 
able me  to  resume  my  labors  again.  What  could 
I  do  but  pawn  the  watch  for  means  to  provide  me 
with  food  and  shelter  ? 

I  wanted  something  to  do  to  pass  away  the  time, 
and  keep  my  mind  from  dwelling  upon  the  horrors 
of  my  situation.  I  felt  like  a  guilty  thing  after 
my  return  from  the  pawn-broker's,  and  something 
must  be  done.  I  went  to  my  room  in  pursuance  of 


THE   LIFE    OF    A    BOOK    AGENT.  327  • 

the  resolution  mentioned  in  my  first  chapter,  and 
wrote  for  some  time  ;  but  this  only  increased  the 
gloom  resting  upon  my  spirits,  and  I  finally  threw 
down  the  pen,  and  going  to  my  landlady  asked 
for  work.  Even  if  it  paid  me  nothing,  it  would  at 
least  keep  my  mind  employed,  and  pass  away  the 
time.  She  had  a  quilt  on  the  frames,  and  told  me 
I  might  work  on  that  if  I  liked,  and  she  would  pay 
me  whatever  it  was  worth.  Accordingly  I  went 
to  work  and  worked  all  the  evening  for  her,  for  the 
sole  purpose  of  diverting  my  mind. 

The  next  day  was  Sunday,  and  it  cleared  off 
once  more,  The  clouds  dispersed,  the  sun  came 
out  beautifully,  and  all  nature  appeared  in  gay 
and  smillirig  colors  once  more.  My  spirits  rose ; 
for  I  felt  sure  that  on  the  morrow  I  would  be  able 
to  resume  my  labors,  and  regain  all  and  more  than 
I  had  lost. 

And  this  time  my  predictions  of  fair  weather 
were  verified.  The  sun  rose  clear  and  beautiful  on 
Monday  morning,  and  so  impatient  was  I  to  be  at 
my  work,  that  it  was  with  difficulty  I  waited  for 
my  breakfast.  When  that  very  necessary  affair 
was  disposed  of,  I  at  once  set  out  in  search  of  sub- 
scribers. Heretofore  I  had  paid  my  respects  to 
stores,  offices  and  the  like,  but  to-day  my  eyes  and 
footsteps  were  turned  in  another  direction,  and 
private  residences  were  my  objective  points.  And 
my  efforts  were  crowned  with  fair  success,  for 
when  I  turned  my  footsteps  homeward,  at  night- 
fall, six  names  had  been  added  to  my  list.  What 


328  THE   LIFE   OF   A    BOOK   AGENT. 

mattered  it  that  I  was  weary  and  well-nigh  worn 
out  with  my  incessant  labors,  or  that  food  had  not 
passed  my  lips  since  the  matin  meal — I  had  earned 
six  dollars,  enough  to  pay  my  board  for  a  week, 
and  my  heart  was  light.  What  matter  if  brother's 
watch  was  in  pawn  for  fifteen  dollars — I  had  a 
month  in  which  to  redeem  it,  and  that  day  had 
brought  me  nearly  half  enough  for  that  purpose, 
and  I  was  happy.  I  was  in  a  good  humor  with 
myself  and  all  the  world,  and  began  to  think  that 
this  earth  was  not  such  a  bad  place  to  inhabit, 
after  all,  and  that  the  people  of  Peoria  were  not 
really  the  outcasts  of  creation.  Nay,  I  even  abated 
a  very  considerable  amount  of  my  hostility  to  the 
weather-god,  and  felt  very  much  inclined  to  for- 
give him  for  the  unfavorable  character  of  the 
last  two  weeks.  In  fine,  I  was  very  much 
mollified. 

The  next  day  I  went  to  that  part  of  the  city 
called  "  The  Bluffs  " — I  know  not  why,  unless  be- 
cause the  people  there  are  more  inclined  to 
"bluff"  a  stranger  than  elsewhere — and  took,  by 
the  hardest  of  work,  only  three  names.  On  my 
way  home,  however,  I  succeeded  in  getting  a  poor 
woman,  whom  I  had  asked  for  a  drink  of  water,  to 
put  her  name  down,  subject,  however,  to  the  con- 
sent of  her  husband.  And  I  may  add,  in  this 
connection,  that  that  consent  was  given,  and  the 
book  taken  with  a  hearty  good-will,  which  was 
far  more  agreeable  than  that  very  often  displayed 
by  those  who  were  rich  in  money,  but  poor  in 


THE   LIFE   OF   A   BOOK    AGENT.  329 

spirit,  as  compared  with  this  loving  and  hard- 
working couple. 

I  had,  therefore,  obtained  four  subscribers  this 
day,  which  gave  me  ground  to  hope  for  better 
success  on  the  morrow.  Ten  subscribers  this  week 
thus  far.  Even  if  unsuccessful,  or  if  the  weather 
should  again  become  bad  so  as  to  prevent  me  from 
working  at  all,  my  report  this  week  would  compare 
very  favorably  with  those  of  the  last  two  weeks, 
and  my  faith  in  future  success  was  so  strong  as  to 
induce  me  that  night  to  write  for  twenty  copies 
more. 

My  faith  in  the  future  was  not  disappointed  by 
the  result,  for  on  the  next  day  no  less  than  eleven 
names  were  added  to  my  list  of  subscribers.  This 
was  something  like  old  times,  and  made  me  feel 
quite  rich  once  more.  I  even  began  to  consider  in 
what  bank  it  was  best  for  me  to  deposit  my  earn- 
ings, so  as  to  be  sure  that  they  would  be  safe,  and 
I  very  seriously  contemplated  going  to  my  old 
friend  "  Crusty,"  and  asking  his  advice  upon  this 
important  subject,  or  at  least  getting  him  to  insure 
my  fortune  against  loss  by  thieves,  burglars,  fire 
or  flood,  but  finally  concluded  to  wait  until  I  had 
paid  my  debts,  or  at  least  received  my  money  for 
the  books  I  had  sold  to  those  eleven  persons.  The 
next  day  I  got  only  one  subscriber;  but  never 
mind — that  was  one  dollar,  and  I  would  not  starve 
if  I  only  made  that  amount  each  day. 

To  illustrate  the  fact  that  book  agents  have  all 
kinds  of  customers  to  deal  with — a  fact  that  has 


330  THE   LIFE   OF   A   BOOK   AGENT. 

already  to  some  extent  appeared  in  these  pages — 
let  me  here  give  the  reader  an  account  of  my  inter- 
view, on  the  next  day,'  with  a  dentist  by  the  name 

of  G ,  one  of  the  first  dentists  in  the  city.  I  am 

sorry  that  I  am  unable  at  this  time  to  give  his 
name  in  full,  for  it  is  meet  and  proper  that  his 
name  and  business  should  be  advertised  in  full  in 
these  pages  without  cost  to  him.  And  thus  was 
the  interview. 

"  Dr.  G.,  I  have  a  book  to  which  I  would  like  to 
call  your  attention  for  a  few  moments.  I  would 
like  to  add  your  name  to  my  list  of  subscribers, 
and  think  you  would  be  pleased  with  it." 

"  I  don't  care  about  looking  at  it.  Don't  know 
as  I  want  to  buy  any  books.  They  generally  cost 
more  than  they  are  worth." 

"I  called  at  your  house  and  showed  this  to  your 
wife.  She  was  very  anxious  to  get  it,  but  did  not 
like  to  put  her  name  down  without  your  consent, 
and  referred  me  to  you." 

"  Oh !  yes,  of  course.  My  wife  wants  everything 
she  sees  any  other  woman  have.  Get  two  women 
together  and  they  will  ruin  any  man  with  their 
silly  notions." 

u  Will  you  look  at  my  book,  sir  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  can  look  at  it,  but  can't  buy  it." 

"  Can't  you  spend  two  dollars  and  seventy-five 
cents  to  please  your,  wife  ?  She  wants  the  book." 

u  Of  course,  she  wants  it,  but  she  don't  need  it. 
Besides  money  is  very  scarce.  Don't  you  want 


THE   LIFE    OF   A    BOOK   AGENT.  331 

your  teeth  fixed  ?  If  so,  may  be  we  can  come  to 
terms  in  that  way." 

"  Yes,  sir ;  I  have  two  teeth  I  want  extracted, 
and  if  you  will  subscribe  for  my  book,  I  will  have 
it  done.  If  not,  I  will  go  elsewhere." 

"  Let  me  take  out  three  teeth — enough  to  pay  for 
the  book,  and  I  will  subscribe." 

"  No,  sir.     Two  are  all  I  wish  to  lose." 

"Well,  sit  down." 

He  took  my  subscription  book,  put  down  his 
name,  and  then  proceeded  to  the  extraction  of  my 
teeth,  thus  combining  a  fine  stroke  of  business 
with  the  pleasure  of  making  his  wife  a  present  of 
the  value  of  two  dollars  and  three-quarters !  If 
that  man  does  not  succeed  in  accumulating  a 
fortune,  it  will  be  only  because  meanness  is  not 
the  surest  road  to  wealth.  I  wanted  the  teeth  ex- 
tracted, but  the  idea  of  making  that  a  condition  of 
presenting  his  wife  with  a  book  which  she  wanted, 
and  which  she  would  have  subscribed  for,  but  for 
her  wholesome  fear  of  her  lord  and  master  !  Per- 
haps the  reader  will  think  I  would  be  in  a  hurry 
about  delivering  a  book  sold  under  such  circum- 
stances, but  really  I  was  not.  When  I  had  collect- 
ed the  money  to  redeem  brother's  watch,  I  rested 
very  easy  about  it,  and  it  was  not  until  I  had  fin- 
ished my  canvassing  in  Peoria,  and  was  ready  to 
leave,  that  Mr.  Dentist  got  his  book.  In  taking 
leave  of  this  subject,  I  beg  to  advise  my  fellow 
book  agents  to  give  Mr.  G.  a  wide  berth,  unless 
they  are  ready  to  suffer  the  loss  of  teeth  for  the 


332  THE    LIFE    OF    A    BOOK    AGENT. 

purpose  of  selling  their  publications.  After  leav- 
ing Mr.  G.  I  went  to  several  other  places,  and,  by 
dint  of  hard  and  constant  work,  succeeded  in  get- 
ting eight  more  names  that  day,  and  this,  too, 
without  having  to  submit  to  any  surgical  operation 
of  any  kind.  Indeed,  in  all  my  experience  as  a 
"  Book  Agent,"  Mr.  G.  is  the  only  man  whom  I 
ever  met  who  insisted  upon  my  paying  his  sub- 
scription by  eliminating  some  of  the  members  of 
the  unfortunate  canvasser.  There  may  be  others 
in  the  world,  but  it  is  extremely  doubtful,  and  he 
should  be  preserved,  in  a  glass  case  if  need  be,  as 
a  sort  of  curiosity  for  the  edification  and  amuse- 
ment of  the  rising  generation. 

The  next  day  a  hard  and  persistent  canvass, 
from  "  early  morn  to  dewy  eve,"  only  added  one 
name  to  my  list.  I  had  got  into  a  part  of  the  city 
which  was  inhabited  by  the  poorer  classes,  many 
of  them  Germans,  just  from  "  Faderland,"  and  they 
had  neither  the  means  nor  inclination  to  purchase 
anything  in  the  way  of  English  literature.  I  was 
not  really  surprised  or  disappointed  at  the  result 
of  my  labors  among  that  class,  for  but  little  could 
be  anticipated,  but  still  it  would  not  do  for  me 
to  pass  them  by.  I  was  bound  by  my  obligations 
and  duties  as  an  agent  to  canvass  the  city  thor- 
oughly, and  this  I  would  do  whether  I  obtained 
subscribers  or  not.  And  if  I  did  this  and  failed  to 
make  sales,  the  fault,  at  least,  would  not  be  mine. 

On  Saturday  I  made  my  report  to  the  general 
agent  of  sales  of  thirty  copies  that  week.  I  felt 


THE   LIFE   OF   A   BOOK    AGENT.  333 

very  proud  of  the  favorable  contrast  between  this 
report  and  the  one  that  had  preceded  it,  and  was 
still  better  satisfied  when  Mr.  Holland  wrote  me 
saying  he  was  "  glad  to  learn  from  account  of  sales 
that  the  flood  in  Peoria  had  decayed  and  dried  up, 
and  that  the  waters  were  failing  from  off  the 
ground." 

The  Sunday  following  was  a  lonely  day,  and  as 
I  contemplated  the  work  of  the  past  week  (don't 
think  me,  dear  reader,  irreverent  or  wicked  for 
thinking  of  these  matters  on  the  Sabbath  day; 
my  mind  was  so  full  of  the  subject,  and  it  was  so 
necessary  to  my  existence  that  I  could  riot  help  it) 
my  heart  welled  up  with  gratitude  to  Him  by 
whose  overruling  providence  the  storm  had  been 
stayed,  and  I  had  been  enabled  to  resume  my  toil 
with  some  prospect  of  success.  To-day  I  attended 
church  for  the  first  time  in  Peoria.  I  had  hereto- 
fore been  so  down-hearted  that  I  had  not  felt  like 
going  to  church  or  anywhere  else,  but  to-day,  I,  in 
part,  made  amends  for  lost  time  heretofore.  I  went 
to  the  Baptist  church  in  the  morning ;  to  Sabbath- 
school  in  the  afternoon,  and  to  church  again  in  the 
evening ;  heard  good  sermons,  and  passed  the  day 
very  pleasantly,  feeling  better  at  night,  both  men- 
tally and  physically,  than  I  had  for  some  time. 

The  next  week  the  weather  was  fair,  and  I  work- 
ed all  the  week,  with  varying  success.  On  Mon- 
day, I  took  six  subscribers ;  on  Tuesday,  the  ut- 
most number  possible  to  obtain  by  hard  work  was 
five ;  Wednesday  my  success  was  good,  and  ten 


334  THE   LIFE   OF    A   BOOK    AGENT. 

names  were  added  to  my  list  before  nightfall  com- 
pelled me  to  desist ;  Thursday,  only  three  names 
rewarded  my  exertions,  and  Friday  I  was  com- 
pelled to  content  myself  with  barely  one.  And 
thus  it  went.  I  could  compare  my  work  to  nothing 
in  the  world  but  fishing.  On  one  day  business 
would  be  good,  and  almost  every  one  I  asked 
would  subscribe ;  on  another  day,  under  precisely 
the  same  circumstances,  and,  so  far  as  it  was  pos- 
sible for  me  to  judge,  with  just  as  fair  prospects  of 
success,  the  utmost  that  could  be  done  would  be 
to  take  one,  two,  or  three  names.  Every  lover  of 
piscatorial  sports  will  recognize  the  similarity  in 
this  to  his  own  experience.  Nevertheless,  my  re- 
port this  week  turned  out  to  be  very  respectable, 
being  no  less  than  twenty-five  subscribers,  while  I 
had  delivered  thirty  copies  previously  taken. 

About  this  time  I  had  some  difficulty  with  the 
agent  of  the  express  company  relative  to  a  lot  of 
books  shipped  to  me  by  Mr.  Holland.  It  was 
during  the  rainy  weather  which  had  just  closed, 
and  while  the  books  were  in  charge  of  the  com- 
pany they  had  been  exposed  to  the  rain,  and  some 
of  them  had  got  wet  and  were  very  much  damaged. 
I  found  that  five  of  them  were  so  much  damaged 
as  to  be  almost  entirely  unsaleable  at  any  price, 
and  I  thought  the  company  ought  to  take  them 
and  pay  for  them.  Indeed,  I  was  advised  by  my 
friends  that  they  could  be  compelled  to  do  so ; 
but  the  agent  declined  to  make  any  compensation, 
and  the  amount  involved  was  so  small  that  it  did 


THE    LIFE    OF   A   BOOK    AGENT.  335 

not  seem  to  me  worth  while  to  make  much  fuss 
about  it.  Still  it  was  a  very  heavy  loss  to  me  in 
the  present  condition  of  my  finances  ;  but  I  finally 
took  them,  and  let  my  subscribers  have  them  at 
cost,  thus  losing  my  profit  of  one  dollar  on  each 
book,  \  and  getting  nothing  on  that  day's  work. 
Up  to  this  time  the  express  agent  had  treated  me 
very  kindly  and  gentlemanly ;  but  in  this  instance 
I  regarded  his  conduct  as  anything  else,  and  did 
not  hesitate  to  tell  him  so.  He  had  not  scrupled 
to  take  advantage  of  the  unfortunate  circumstances 
in  which  I,  a  woman,  without  money  and  without 
friends,  was  placed,  to  repudiate  an  obligation 
which  law  and  justice  alike  imposed  on  him,  and 
had  thus  displayed  a  want  of  principle  which, 
though  perhaps  not  unusual  with  some  men,  should 
still  be  but  a  poor  recommendation  for  the  position 
he  then  occupied.  It  shall  not  be  my  fault  if  the 
world  does  not  rate  him  at  his  true  value. 

Having  by  this  time  about  completed  my  can- 
vass of  the  city  of  Peoria,  and  believing  that  my 
difficulty  with  the  express  agent  would  render 
further  transactions  with  that  office  unpleasant, 
I  decided  to  change  my  locality,  and  canvass  the 
little  town  of  Elmwood  in  the  same  county — -leav- 
ing, for  the  present  at  least,  so  much  of  the  city  as 
I  had  not  visited. 

I  must  not  omit,  however,  to  bear  testimony,  in 
this  place,  to  the  kindness  and  generosity  which 
were  displayed  toward  me  by  a  Mr.  Tripp,  resid- 
ing in  the  city,  before  my  departure.  He  was  a 


336  THE   LIFE    OF   A   BOOK    AGENT. 

merchant  and  was  one  of  my  subscribers.  I  had  a 
lot  of  books — thirty  in  number — to  be  delivered  in 
order  to  supply  my  customers.  After  the  difficulty 
to  which  allusion  has  been  made,  the  agent,  con- 
trary to  his  practice,  and  to  vent  his  spite  on  me, 
refused  to  allow  me  to  open  the  package  in  the 
office,  and  I  had  not  money  enough  to  pay  the 
charges  on  them  and  take  them  away.  In  this 
emergency  Mr.  Tripp  generously  came  to  my  as- 
sistance, advanced  the  money  to  pay  the  charges 
and  allowed  me  to  take  them  away  as  I  was  able — 
paying  him  for  them  as  I  could  raise  the  money. 
Some  of  my  subscribers  were  not  ready  to  take  their 
books,  and  when  I  went  away  there  were  twelve 
copies  still  undelivered,  which  Mr.  Tripp  consented 
to  retain  and  wait  for  his  pay  until  the  subscribers 
were  ready  to  receive  them.  How  different  was  his 
conduct  from  that  of  the  express  agent !  For  this 
kindness  to  a  comparative  stranger,  he  has  her 
heartfelt  thanks,  and  will  assuredly  some  day  re- 
ceive his  reward. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

I  ARRIVED  at  Elmwood  about  two  o'clock  in  the 
afternoon,  and  immediately  set  about  finding  a 
suitable  boarding  place.  In  this  I  was  extremely 
fortunate.  The  place  selected  for  my  headquarters 
there  was  the  family  of  a  Mr.  King,  a  kind  and 
considerate  Christian  gentleman,  while  his  wife 
was  one  of  the  most  pleasant  and  agreeable  ladies 
it  was  ever  my  fortune  to  meet.  They  were  kind 
and  consistent  followers  of  the  meek  and  lowly 
Jesus,  and  their  treatment  of  me  during  my  stay 
in  their  midst  partook  more  of  the'  character  of 
that  which  might  be  meted  out  to  a  dearly  loved 
sister,  than  of  that  which  keepers  of  boarding- 
houses  are  wont  to  display  toward  their  guests. 
There  will  ever  be  a  green  spot  in  my  memory  to 
record  the  kindly  deeds  of  this  family  toward  the 
lonely  wanderer,  who  had  come  to  them  with  no 
recommendations  save  those  which  appeal  to  the 
heart  of  every  true  Christian.  "  I  was  a  stranger, 
and  ye  took  me  in." 

Indeed  my  heart  holds  grateful  recollections  of 
every  one  in  Elmwood,  with  whom  it  was  my 
fortune  to  be  brought  in  contact  during  my  stay 
in  that  place.  Never  has  it  been  my  lot  to  be 
treated  with  such  uniform  courtesy  and  kindness 
by  every  one.  Surely  if  good  works  and  kind 

22  (  337  ) 


338  THE    LIFE    OF    A    BOOK    AGENT. 

deeds  toward  the  lone  and  unfortunate  are  a  pass- 
port to  future  happiness,  the  people  of  that  loveli- 
est of  rural  villages  are  on  the  high  road  to  eternal 
bliss.  The  reader  must  pardon  my  enthusiasm 
upon  this  subject,  for  my  situation  there  was  so 
different  from  what  had  been  my  usual  experience, 
that  it  seems  almost  impossible  to  express  my 
satisfaction  at  the  contrast. 

I  have  alluded  particularly  to  the  kindness  of 
Mr.  King  and  his  wife.  The  reader  must  pardon 
me  for  referring  particularly  to  another  instance  of 
the  unparalleled  generosity  with  which  the  deni- 
zens of  that  place  were  wont  to  treat  me,  a  perfect 
stranger.  Among  my  earliest  acquaintances  was 
a  young  man  by  the  name  of  J.  Hopkins.  He  was 
a  young  man  of  the  purest  integrity  and  upright- 
ness of  character,  and  his  heart  overflowed  with 
kindness  to  all  with  whom  he  was  brought  in  con- 
tact. He  had,  too,  one  of  those  frank,  noble  natures 
which,  suspecting  no  ill,  regard  every  one  as  worthy 
of  the  same  trust  which  his  fine,  manly  countenance 
inspired  in  every  one  who  met  him.  Altogether  he 
was  one  of  those  men  in  whom,  at  first  sight,  you 
feel  that  it  is  safe  to  confide,  and  who  never  betray 
a  trust  reposed  in  them.  He  had  been  a  soldier, 
and  had  lost  an  arm  in  the  service  of  his  country  r 
but  was  now  engaged  in  business  which  his  good- 
ness and  universal  popularity  naturally  rendered 
profitable. 

Situated   as  I    was,  it  was  but  natural  that  1 
should  confide  to  him  my  situation  and  pecuniar;/ 


THE   LIFE   OF    A    BOOK    AGENT.  339 

embarrassments  :  with  a  nobleness  and  generosity 
which  may  sometimes  be  equaled  but  never  excell- 
ed, he  came  to  my  relief,  and  freely  tendered  me 
any  assistance  I  might  desire.  And  during  all  the 
time  that  I  remained  in  Elmwood,  the  same  gener- 
osity was  continued.  Was  money  needed  to  take 
a  package  of  books  from  the  express  office?  his 
purse  was  at  my  command,  and  without  security 
of  any  kind  he  allowed  me  to  take  my  books  and 
pay  for  them  as  I  chose.  T^ay,  more,  any  busi- 
ness which  I  was  at  a  loss  how  to  transact,  I  had 
but  to  submit  to  him,  and  it  was  done  in  the  most 
correct  and  expeditious  manner,  and  that,  too, 
without  fee  or  reward  beyond  my  poor  thanks  and 
my  most  fervent  gratitude.  He  took  my  pawn- 
ticket,  and  redeemed  my  watch  from  the  grasp  of 
the  old  skinflint,  in  Pepria,  with  whom  I  had  pawn- 
ed it — I  of  course  furnishing  the  money  to  do  so — 
and  when  I  offered  to  compensate  him  for  his 
trouble,  he  positively  refused  to  receive  anything. 
I  owed  him  frequently,  during  my  stay  in  Elm- 
wood,  as  high  as  thirty,  forty  or  fifty  dollars  at  a 
time,  and  he  never  asked  me  for  a  cent  of  money 
at  any  time,  but  just  left  the  time  of  payment  to 
my  own  convenience.  A  brother  could  not  have 
done  more  for  me,  and  his  kindness  will  never  be 
forgotten. 

It  took  me  but  a  few  days  to  canvass  Elmwood, 
when  I  finally  got  at  work.  There  was  a  weekly 
paper  published  in  the  place,  in  which  I  had  ad- 
vertised the  work  upon  my  first  arrival,  and  every- 


340  THE   LIFE    OF   A    BOOK    AGENT. 

body  was  ready  to  subscribe  or  refuse  as  soon  as 
the  work  was  submitted  for  their  inspection.  I 
have  very  often  in  small  places  derived  great  bene- 
fit in  my  canvassing,  by  advertising  my  publica- 
tions in  the  local  papers.  The  same  results  do  not 
follow  advertisements  in  large  cities,  but  in  a  small 
village  like  Elmwood,  destitute  of  anything  which 
tends  to  excite  the  public  pulse,  the  local  journals 
are  read  with  an  avidity  which  the  residents  of 
the  city  never  know*  and  when  anything  is  once 
advertised,  it  attracts  tke  attention  of  the  entire 
community ;  it  is  canvassed  in  every  possible 
aspect,  and  people  have  their  minds  made  up  one 
way  or  the  other  as  to  its  merits.  And  when  the 
agent  finally  appears,  every  one  is  ready  to  give  a 
decided  answer.  I  did  very  well  in  Elmwood, 
having  succeeded  in  selling  no  less  than  forty 
copies  of  the  work  in  a  little  town  of  not  more,  I 
should  think,  than  one  thousand  inhabitants.  And 
this,  as  before  stated,  was  accomplished  in  but  a 
very  few  days. 

There  are  several  little  country  towns,  as  South- 
port,  Pittsville,  etc.,  lying  about  equal  distances 
from  Elmwood,  and  off  of  any  railroad  or  other 
public  conveyance.  Having  finished  my  work  in 
the  latter  place,  I  decided  to  go  and  canvass  these 
little  towns ;  but  the  puzzling  question  was  how 
to  get  there,  and  how  to  transfer  my  books  and 
baggage  there.  After  considerable  cogitation  up- 
on this  subject,  I  finally  concluded  not  to  move  my 
headquarters  from  Elmwood;  but  to  retain  my 


THE   LIFE    OF    A    BOOK    AGENT.  341 

present  boarding-place,  and,  taking  a  few  books, 
go  by  some  chance  conveyance,  which  might  pre- 
sent itself,  to  one  of  the  little  towns  before  men- 
tioned. A  single  instance  will  illustrate  my  mode 
of  doing  this  business. 

Having,  for  several  days,  tried  in  vain  to  obtain 
a  conveyance  from  Elm  wood  to  Southport,  I  finally, 
on  one  bright  Monday  morning,  took  a  large  mar- 
ket-basket— it  would  hold  just  fifteen  "  Tried  and 
Trues,"  and  was  so  heavy  that  it  was  all  I  could 
do  to  lift  it — filled  it  with  books,  and  going  out  a 
little  way  on  the  Southport  road,  sat  down  under  a 
tree  to  "  wait  for  the  wagon."  I  sat  there  for 
several  hours  before  any  conveyance  came  along 
going  my  way,  thongh  quite  a  number  passed  me 
going  the  other  way.  But,  reflecting  that  the 
stream  would  by  and  by  be  flowing  the  other  way, 
I  maintained  my  seat  with  what  patience  I  could. 
Noon  came,  and  no  team  had  made  its  appearance 
going  my  way.  I  took  out  a  lunch  I  had  brought 
with  me,  ate  it,  and  still  waited,  hoping  that  my 
patience  would  finally  be  rewarded  by  the  sight  of 
an  approaching  wagon,  and  at  last  one  made  its 
appearance.  As  it  drew  near,  I  approached  the 
roadside  and  signaled  the  driver  to  stop,  which 
he  did. 

"  I  give  you  good  day,  sir.  Are  you  going  to 
Southport?" 

"  I  am,  madam.  Is  there  anything  I  can  do  for 
you  ?  " 

"  I  want  to  get  there.     Can  I  ride  with  you  ? " 


342  THE    LIFE    OF    A    BOOK    AGEISTT. 

"  I  have  a  tolerably  good  load ;  but  if  you  do 
not  mind  riding  on  a  load  of  shelled  corn,  guess  I 
can  accommodate  you." 

"  Oh !  sir,  I  can  ride  anywhere.  If  you  will  take 
me  and  my  basket  of  butter,  I  shall  be  ever  so 
much  obliged." 

"  Very  well,  madam ;  I  can  take  you.  Just 
bring  your  basket  here.  Why !  you  can  hardly 
lift  it.  How  many  pounds  of  butter  have  you 
there  ? " 

"I  don't  know  just  how  many  pounds  I  have." 

By  this  time  I  was  in  the  wagon ;  he  started  up 
his  team;  and,  for  some  little  time,  we  jogged  on 
in  silence.  At  length  he  spoke — 

"  Your  butter  is  for  sale,  I  suppose  ?  " 

"Yes,  sir." 

"  How  much  do  you  ask  for  it  ? " 

"It  is  put  up  in  rolls  of  the  value  of  two  dollars 
and  seventy-five  cents  each." 

"  Two  dollars  and  seventy -five  cents !  Why, 
they  must  be  very  large  and  heavy  rolls." 

"JSTo,  sir;  not  very  large.  Would  you  like  to 
see  one  ? " 

"  Why,  yes,    if  you  please." 

"  Here,  sir,"  said  I,  raising  the  cover  of  the  bas- 
ket, and  producing  a  copy  of  "  Tried  and  True," 
"  is  one  of  my  rolls  of  butter." 

"  Why,  that  is  a  book.  Bless  my  heart,  madam, 
is  the  basket  full  of  books  ?  " 

"  It  is,  sir.  .  You  can  look  for  yourself,"  said  I, 
raising  the  cover  of  the  basket  as  I  spoke,  so  that 


THE   LIFE    OF    A    BOOK    AGENT.  343 

he  could  have  a  good  view  of  its  contents.  "How 
do  you  like  the  looks  of  them  ?  " 

"But  you  said  you  had  butter  in  the  basket." 

"  Well,  I  sell  these  books,  and,  when  I  want  any 
butter,  I  buy  it  with  the  proceeds  of  the  books.  It 
is  the  only  way  I  have  to  get  any  butter,  or  bread 
either,  for  that  matter ;  and,  hence,  there  is  nothing 
wrong  in  my  saying  that  they  are  my  butter. 
They  are ;  and  my  bread  and  clothing,  too." 

"  Well,"  said  he,  laughing,  "  you  make  out  a 
very  good  case." 

"I  think  so,  sir.  Won't  you  help  me  to  make 
out  a  still  better  one  by  buying  one  of  my  rolls  of 
butter?" 

"I  can't  see  what  it  is." 

"Well,  let  me  take  the  lines  and  drive  the  team 
a  little  way  while  you  examine  it.  I  think  you 
will  buy  one  if  you  only  look  at  it." 

He  laid  down  his  whip,  took  the  book  and 
handed  the  lines  to  me.  He  was  soon  absorbed  in 
the  book,  and  I  drove  on,  while  he  took  no  note  of 
anything  at  all.  I  could  have  driven  the  team  to 
Chicago,  and  he  would  never  have  known  the 
difference,  so  interested  was  he  in  the  story  he  held 
in  his  hand.  I  finally  grew  impatient  lest  he 
should  finish  the  book  before  we  reached  our 
destination,  and,  touching  him  on  the  shoulder 
with  the  whip,  said  : 

"Had  you  not  better  buy  the  book  and  read  it 
when  you  get  home  ?  We  shall  soon  be  at  South- 
port." 


344  THE   LIFE   OF   A    BOOK   AGENT. 

He  started,  looked  a  little  ashamed  of  having* 
so  forgotten  himself,  but  paid  me  for  the  book 
without  a  word.  I  thanked  him  and  resigned  the 
lines  to  him,  and  in  a  short  time  we  arrived  at 
Southport,  where  I  bid  him  "good  day,"  while 
he  passed  on  through  the  town.  He  lived  at 
Princeville,  a  few  miles  farther  on,  and  was  then 
on  his  way  home. 

This,  dear  reader,  was  the  manner  in  which  I 
reached  the  village  of  Southport,  and  this  may 
serve  as  a  sample  of  the  way  in  which  I  went 
about  to  canvass  the  several  other  little  towns 
which  are  scattered  throughout  Peoria  county. 
Of  course,  the  reader  will  not  understand  that  I 
always  rode  on  a  load  of  corn,  or  that  I  was  al- 
ways so  fortunate  as  to  sell  a  copy  of  my  book  to 
my  impromptu  coachman.  But  I  visited  all  these 
little  towns  simply  by  watching  by  the  roadside 
for  a  chance  to  ride.  And  I  say  to  the  credit  of 
the  farmers  of  that  county,  that  I  never  found  one, 
no  matter  what  the  circumstances,  who  was  un- 
willing to  transport  me  and  my  "basket  of 
butter,"  or  who  treated  me  in  any  but  the  most 
respectful  and  courteous  manner. 

It  was  about  five  o'clock  in  the  evening  when 
I  dismissed  my  carriage  in  the  streets  of  South- 
port.  I  had  never  been  there  before,  but  had  by 
this  time  become  pretty  well  accustomed  to  being 
among  strangers,  and  it  gave  me  no  uneasiness. 
There  was  no  hotel  in  the  place,  and  I  went  to 
a  private  house,  made  known  my  name  and 


THE   LIFE    OF    A   BOOK    AGENT.  345 

business  to  them,  and  engaged  lodgings  for  the 
night.  I  succeeded  in  interesting  them  in  the 
merits  of  "  Tried  and  True,"  and  sold  them  a  copy 
of  the  work. 

The  next  morning  I  went  to  work  with  a  will, 
and  canvassed  the  entire  town,  selling  all  the 
books  I  had  with  me  but  five  copies.  With  these 
I  started  on  foot  for  Elmwood,  intending  to  sell 
them  out  at  the  farm-houses  along  the  road.  I 
was  several  days  in  getting  back,  for  I  stopped  at 
every  house  along  the  road,  staying  each  night 
just  where  nightfall  overtook  me,  and  finding  but 
few  persons  who  were  able  or  willing  to  buy.  How- 
ever, when  I  finally  reached  Elmwood,  about  two 
o'clock  on  Saturday  afternoon,  I  had  not  a  single 
book  left,  and  had  beside,  taken  orders  for  three 
more,  to  be  left  in  Mr.  Hopkins'  hands.  He  again 
displayed  his  generosity  by  advancing  me  the 
money  upon  them,  and  taking  his  chances  of  get- 
ting it  back  from  my  subscribers — and  I  am  very 
happy  to  say  they  all  paid  him  in  a  very  short 
time.  Had  they  not  done  so,  I  should  most 
certainly  have  refunded  him  the  money  before  leav- 
ing that  section  of  the  country. 

In  this  way  I  worked  until  I  had  canvassed  the 
entire  county,  and  the  time  came  for  me  to  leave 
Elmwood  and  its  vicinity,  perhaps  forever.  How  I 
hated  to  leave !  I  had  been  so  happy  there,  and 
had  so  many  good  friends,  that  I  almost  dreaded 
to  leave  them  and  go  among  entire  strangers 
again.  I  had  seen  more  real  happiness  there 


346  THE   LIFE    OF   A    BOOK    AGENT. 

than  I  had  at  any  time  or  place  since  the  sad  dis- 
covery in  Cincinnati  which  led  to  the  separation 
of  Mason  and  myself.  Would  I  ever  see  as  much 
happiness  again? 

In  one  particular  I  had  deceived  myElmwood 
friends ;  but,  under  the  circumstances  in  which  I 
was  placed,  I  can  not  think  they  will  blame  me 
very  sorely.  I  had  not  imparted  to  any  one  any 
portion  of  my  past  history,  and  had  held  myself 
out  to  them  as  a  widow.  It  was  not  altogether 
right,  but  no  one  was  injured  thereby,  and  it 
seemed  to  me  to  be  almost  necessary  to  my  self- 
preservation  that  my  past  life  should  not  be  known 
to  them.  If  any  of  them  should  by  chance  read  this 
story,  they  will  understand  my  reason  for  the  de- 
ception ;  and,  while  once  more  thanking  them,  one 
and  all,  for  their  uniform  kindness  to  me,  I  most 
humbly  beg  their  pardon  for  the  trifling  deception 
I  practiced  upon  them.  Had  I  known  them  as 
well  when  I  went  among  them  as  I  do  now,  I  should 
not  have  hesitated  to  tell  them  just  how  I  was 
situated ;  but  I  did  not,  and  when  I  came  to  know 
them  well,  it  was  then  too  late  to  correct  the  error; 
at  least  I  feared  that  it  was,  and  dreaded  the  loss 
of  position  which  I  feared  would  follow  an  exposi- 
tion of  my  real  situation.  Once  more  I  beg  the 
pardon  of  each  and  every  one  for  the  deception. 

During  this  time  I  had  not  heard  one  word  from 
or  of  my  truant  husband.  I  knew  not  whether  he 
was  living  or  dead,  or,  if  living,  what  he  was  doing, 
and  it  is  riot  to  be  supposed  that  he  was  any 


THE   LIFE   OF    A    BOOK    AGENT.  347 

Ibetter  informed  as  to  my  movements.  At  times 
this  gave  me  very  little  trouble,  for  though  I  had 
loved  him  with  all  the  power  of  affection,  and 
regarded  him  as  almost  more  than  mortal,  and  had 
in  my  fancy  clothed  him  with  attributes  of  noble- 
ness which  belong  to  none  but  the  most  perfect  of 
God's  creatures,  still  it  was  impossible  for  me  to 
forget  that  he  had  insulted  and  abuse  me ;  had 
put  upon  me  the  foulest  wrong  which  can  be 
offered  to  a  faithful  and  trusting  wife  ;  had  violated 
every  vow  which  he  assumed  in  the  presence  of 
God  and  man  ;  had  betrayed  the  confidence  and 
trust  I  had  reposed  in  him,  and  to  crown  his  in- 
famy, had  driven  me  from  the  home  and  protec- 
tion he  had  sworn  to  give  me,  to  support  myself 
or  perish  among  strangers,  while  he  gave  no  care 
or  thought  to  the  fate  of  her  whom  he  had  en- 
dowed with  the  sacred  name  of  wife.  When  I 
reflected  upon  these  things  ;  when  faithful  memory 
presented  the  picture  of  the  wrongs  I  had  endured 
at  his  hands — oh !  then  was  my  once  ardent  love 
for  him  turned  to  hate,  and  while  praying  heaven's 
choicest  vengeance  upon  him,  I  had  wished  that 
his  hated  name  might  never  again  be  sounded  in 
my  ears.  But  there  were  other  times  when  the 
memory  of  my  former  love  for  that  base  and  un- 
worthy man  would  sweep  like  a  torrent  over  my 
soul;  my  heart  would  soften  toward  him,  and  I 
would  willingly  have  forgiven  all  my  wrongs  for 
the  poor  boon  of  one  kindly  word  of  remembrance 
from  him ;  one  single  token  to  show  that  he 


348  THE   LIFE    OF   A   BOOK    AGENT. 

cherished  a  pleasing  memory  of  the  past,  now- 
gone  forever.  But  it  never  came. 

Oh !  there  is  no  anguish  like  that  endured  by  a 
faithful,  true-hearted  woman  who  has  loved  with 
her  whole  soul ;  who  has  reveled  in  all  the  bright 
dreams  of  mutual  and  sanctified  affection,  and  has 
been  rudely  and  suddenly  awakened  from  her 
bright  dream  of  happiness,  only  to  learn  that  she 
has  been  betrayed,  deceived,  and  imposed  upon ; 
that  all  the  priceless  treasures  of  her  soul  have 
been  given  to  an  unworthy  object,  and  have  been 
remorselessly  thrown  aside,  and  trampled  into  the 
dust  of  the  earth  by  him  whom  she  believed  to  be 
true  and  faithful  as  the  needle  to  the  pole.  Happy 
then  the  heart  that  can  break,  and  thus  avoid  the 
storm,  the  fierce  conflict  of  passion,  which,  unless 
tempered  by  the  kindness  and  mercy  of  Him  whose 
handiwork  we  all  are,  will  shatter  to  atoms  the 
frail  fabric  upon  which  its  violence  is  spent,  and 
leave  it,  at  the  last,  a  shapeless  and  unsightly 
wreck !  Happy  the  spirit  which  has  power  to  trans- 
form its  former  love  into  hate,  and  avoid  the  dread 
conflict  by  thus  filling  the  soul  with  an  inhabitant 
which,  though  unpleasant  and  detestable,  is  still 
able  to  expel  forever  the  love  which  there  formerly 
reigned  supreme. 

Upon  bidding  adieu  to  my  kind  friends  in  Elm- 
wood,  I  shipped  all  my  baggage  to  Chillicothe,  ac- 
companying it  myself  as  far  as  Rockhill,  where  I 
stopped  off  to  canvass  for  a  few  days.  I  only  did 
tolerably  well  there,  selling  not  more  than  a  dozen 


THE    LIFE    OF    A    BOOK    AGENT.  349 

or  fifteen  in  all,  and  not  liking  the  place,  and  feel- 
ing but  little  encouraged  by  the  prospect  there,  I 
shook  off  the  dust  from  my  feet  against  that  town 
and  returned  to  Peoria,  where  several  little  matters 
of  business  claimed  my  attention.  The  reader  must 
know  that,  up  to  this  time,  I  had  not  delivered  any 
book  to  the  man  who  pulls  teeth  to  pay  his  sub- 
scription— my  old  friend,  Mr.  Dr.  Dentist  GK —  and 
this  must  be  done ;  beside,  I  was  still  a  little  in 
debt  to  Mr.  Tripp,  and  wanted  to  discharge  the  pe- 
cuniary obligation  to  him  under  which  I  was  labor- 
ing, for  my  other  obligations  it  was  impossible  that 
I  ever  should  discharge. 

Accordingly,  I  arranged  these  little  matters  in 
Peoria,  and  then  took  the  cars  for  Chillicothe,  where 
I  arrived  in  due  time,  and,  for  a  short  season,  work- 
ed with  very  fair  success.  I  sold  quite  a  number 
of  books  there,  and  business  finally  becoming  dull, 
went  in  a  wagon  to  Princeville.  But  my  experience 
there  was  such  as  to  induce  me  to  warn  all  my 
fellow  book  agents,  if  any  of  them  should,  per- 
chance, attempt  to  canvass  that  section  of  country, 
to  avoid  Princeville  as  they  would  the  deserts  of 
Arabia.  The  people  there  seem  to  have  a  most 
holy  horror  of  all  kinds  of  literature,  and  to  regard 
traveling  book  agents  as,  in  some  sort,  enemies  of 
the  country,  aliens  and  outlaws.  I  labored  three 
days,  assiduously,  to  break  through  the  crust  of 
exclusiveness  which  surrounded  them,  but  with 
such  poor  success  that  I  only  sold  one  book,  and 
that  through  the  aid  of  my  old  friend,  the  wagoner, 


350  THE   LIFE    OF   A    BOOK    AGENT. 

upon  whose  load  of  corn  I  rode  from  Elmwood  to 
Southport.  It  is  barely  possible  that  the  seed  thus 
sown  may  have  fallen  upon  good  ground,  and  that 
some  other  agent  could  do  better  there  than  I  did,  but 
it  is  extremely  doubtful,  and  I  think  the  language  of 
Holy  Writ  might,  with  safety,  be  applied  to  Prince- 
ville, changing  only  the  names  to  suit  the  case, 
"Princeville  is  joined  to  her  idols,  let  her  alone." 
'From  Princeville  I  started  in  a  wagon  for  Lawn 
Ridge.  Observing  that  the  road  was  good,  and  the 
country  well  settled  by  what  appeared  to  be  a 
class  of  well-to-do  farmers,  I  took  five  copies,  and 
directing  the  wagoner  what  disposition  to  make  of 
the  balance  of  my  books  upon  his  arrival  at  Lawn 
Ridge,  walked  down  a  lane  to  a  comfortable-look- 
ing farm-house,  which  stood  but  a  short  distance 
off  the  main  road.  An  old  woman  was  sitting  on 
the  porch  knitting,  while  a  large  and  fierce-looking 
dog  came  growling  toward  me*  as  I  opened  the 
gate.  The  old  woman  made  no  effort  to  check  him, 
and  I  was  really  afraid  of  him. 

"  Good  morning,  madam.  Will  your  dog  bite 
me?" 

"  Oh !  no.  He  never  bites  nobody.  He  does  a 
mighty  sight  of  growlin',  but  he  haint  never  bit 
anybody  yit.  Come  in." 

"  Madam,  I  have  some  books  to  sell,  and  am  very 
much  in  need  of  money.  Won't  you  take  pity  on 
me,  and  buy  one  ? " 

"  Where  you  goin',  miss  ? " 

"  I  am  going  to  Lawn  Ridge." 


THE   LIFE    OF    A    BOOK    AGENT.  351 

"  Why,  you  don't  say  !  Are  you  goin'  to  walk  to 
Lawn  Ridge,  and  carry  all  them  there  books  ? " 

"  I  am,  indeed,  unless  I  sell  them  before  I  get 
there." 

"  Well,  really!  Why,  where  did  you  come  from  ?" 

"  I  came  from  Prince ville." 

"  Du  tell !  Well,  now,  mebby  my  boy  Tom  will 
buy  one  on  'em,  jest  to  help  you  along.  Tom ; 
come  here.  Here's  a  book  would  jest  suit  you — 
come  and  buy  one  of  this  'ere  woman.  She's  come 
from  Princeville,  and  is  goin'  to  walk  all  the  way 
to  Lawn  Ridge  and  carry  'em,  if  she  don't  sell  'em." 

Her  "  boy  Tom,"  a  great,  awkward  lout,  of  twenty- 
five  or  six,  who  was  working  in  a  garden  hard  by, 
came  up,  and  expressed  almost  as  much  sympathy 
for  my  hard  lot  as  his  mother,  and,  out  of  pure 
charity,  bought  a  book.  I  thanked  them  for  their 
kindness,  but  have  very  grave  doubts  whether  that 
book  has  ever  been  read  to  this  day.  However,  I 
had  accomplished  my  mission,  and,  with  a  light 
heart,  and  my  load  lightened  by  one  copy  of  "  Tried 
and  True,"  I  returned  to  the  road,  and  again  bent 
my  foot-steps  in  the  direction  of  Lawn  Ridge.  Af- 
ter walking  a  mile,  I  came  to  another  house,  where 
I  called,  and,  exposing  my  wares,  tried  to  make  a 
sale,  but  here  the  same  appeals  to  their  charity 
were  in  vain.  They  expressed  sympathy  for  my 
hard  lot,  but  were  unable  to  raise  the  money. 
Thanking  them  for  their  sympathy  and  good  will, 
although  I  derived  no  pecuniary  benefit  from  its 


352  THE   LIFE   OF   A    BOOK    AGENT. 

expression,  I  rested  a  short  time,  and  then  pursued 
my  journey. 

The  next  house  was  half  a  mile  distant,  and  it 
was  now  almost  noon.  When  I  arrived  there  I  was 
weary  and  hungry,  and  asked  the  lady  of  the  house 
for  something  to  eat.  She  gave  me  a  bowl  of  milk 
and  some  fresh  bread  and  butter,  saying  they  had 
been  to  dinner,  and  that  was  all  she  had  at  hand. 
I  sat  down  to  my  frugal  meal,  and,  while  appeasing 
the  cravings  of  my  appetite,  asked  them  to  look  at 
my  books.  The  entire  family  gathered  around, 
and  were  much  pleased  with  the  appearance  of  the 
work. 

"  What  is  the  price  of  your  book  ?  "  said  the  lady 
at  last. 

u  I  am  selling  them  at  two  dollars  and  seventy- 
five  cents.  I  think  the  book  is  really  worth  three 
dollars ;  but  I  only  ask  two  and  three-quarters. 
Will  you  take  one  ?  " 

"I  think  we  will,"  said  she,  producing  a  purse 
and  counting  out  the  exact  sum. 

"  Thank  you,  madam,"  said  I,  rising  as  I  spoke  ; 
"  and  now  what  shall  I  pay  you  for  my  dinner ;  for 
it  is  time  for  me  to  go." 

"  Nothing  at  all.  I  charge  nothing  for  such  a 
dinner  as  that." 

"  But,  madam,  it  is  worth  a  good  deal  to  me." 

"  Well,  if  it  is  worth  anything  to  you,  you  are 
entirely  welcome  to  it.  It  is  worth  nothing  to  me." 

I  thanked  her  heartily  for  her  kindness,  and  re- 
sumed my  journey.  There  are  bright  spots  in  this 


THE   LIFE   OF   A   BOOK    AGENT.  353 

gloomy  world  of  ours ;  and  this  kind  lady,  thus 
bestowing  her  simple  refreshment,  without  reward, 
upon  an  entire  stranger,  whom  she  never  expected 
to  see  again,  demonstrated  that  she  inhabited  one 
of  those  bright  spots,  and  that  the  true  religion  of 
Jesus  Christ  abode  with  her  there. 

At  the  next  house  I  met  one  of  those  over-zeal- 
ous people  who  attach  all  importance  to  the  name, 
while  they  entirely  lose  sight  of  the  substance.  An 
account  of  my  interview  with  the  lady  of  the  house 
will  illustrate  this  fact. 

"  How  do  you  do,  madam  ?  Can  I  rest  a  short 
time  ?  I  am  walking  to  Lawn  Ridge,  and  am  very 
tired." 

"  Certainly  ;  come  in." 

"  Madam,  I  am  a  book  agent,  and  would  like  to 
sell  you  a  book.  Will  you  look  at  them  ?  " 

"  We  have  plenty  of  books ;  but  I  will  look  at 
yours." 

"This  is  a  new  work,  madam — has  been  pub- 
lished but  a  few  weeks,  and  is  one  of  the  most 
interesting  I  ever  read.  I  charge  nothing  for  look- 
ing at  them." 

"  Oh !  this  is  a  novel.  I  never  read  novels.  I 
do  not  think  it  is  right  to  waste  one's  time  in  that 
way." 

"You  don't!  Madam,  what  papers  are  those 
lying  on  the  table  ? " 

"  That  ?    Why,  that  is  the  New  York  Ledger." 

"Do  you  take  it?" 

23 


354  THE   LIFE   OF   A   BOOK   AGENT. 

"  Yes,  ma'am  ;  and  have  for  a  good  many  years. 'y 

"  Who  reads  it — you  or  your  family  ?  " 

"Oh!  we  all  read  it.  We  could  not  get  along 
without  that." 

"  And,  yet,  you  never  read  novels  !  " 

"  Never." 

"  The  New  York  Ledger,  I  suppose,  is  not  a 
series  of  novels  from  one  year's  end  to  another. 
It  is  only  a  newspaper.  But  is  it  any  better  to 
read  a  long  tale  of  fiction  in  the  Ledger  than  it 
would  be  to  read  the  same  story  done  up  in  book 
form.  But,  as  you  never  read  novels,  it  is  not 
worth  while  to  waste  time  in  trying  to  sell  you  one. 
Good  morning,  madam." 

And,  gathering  my  shawl  majestically  about  my 
person,  I  stalked  from  her  presence,  indignant  at 
her  hypocrisy,  or  pitying  her  ignorance.  I  was 
not  certain  which  feeling  predominated. 

After  passing  and  calling  at  one  or  two  other 
houses,  without  effecting  any  sales,  I  arrived  at  a 
comfortable-looking  place  ;  arid,  as  it  was  nearly 
night,  and  I  was  very  weary,  I  decided  to  stay  all 
night,  if  they  would  keep  me.  To  my  application 
for  lodgings,  the  answer  was  : 

u  We  never  turn  anybody  out  of  doors,  and  you 
can  stay." 

I  rested  very  well  that  night,  and  the  next  morn- 
ing prevailed  upon  my  landlady  to  take  a  book, 
and  pay  me  two  dollars  in  money,  allowing  my 
bill  for  supper,  bed  and  breakfast,  to  settle  the 
balance  of  the  price.  I  finally  reached  Lawn 


THE  LIFE  OF  A  BOOK   AGENT,  355 

Ridge,  about  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  ;  having 
sold  all  the  books  with  which  I  started.  My  long 
walk  had  made  me  very  weary  and  footsore,  but 
still  I  had  done  very  well,  and  felt  content. 

Upon  arriving  at  Lawn  Ridge,  my  first  care  was 
to  secure  a  good  stopping-place  for  the  night,  after 
which  I  went  to  the  store  of  Mr.  Parsons,  where  my 
wagoner  had  informed  me  he  would  leave  my  pack- 
age of  books.  I  found  them  all  right,  and  Mr. 
Parsons  very  much  of  a  gentleman.  He  gave  me 
the  books,  and  before  I  left  the  store  I  succeeded 
in  selling  him  one.  This  favorable  beginning,  I 
thought,  augured  well  for  my  success  in  Lawn 
Ridge,  and  I  was  not  disappointed,  for,  though  the 
place  contained  only  about  twenty  or  twenty -five 
houses,  I  sold  some  five  or  six  copies  there,  and 
was  ready  by  the  middle  of  the  afternoon  to  take 
my  seat  in  a  wagon  which  I  fortunately  found 
going  to  Chillicothe.  It  was  now  absolutely  neces- 
sary for  me  to  return  there  to  order  more  books, 
my  present  stock  having  become  almost  exhausted. 

There  was  some  delay  about  getting  my  books, 
and  I  had  to  wait  several  days  for  them.  I  very 
much  hated  to  lose  the  time,  for  it  was  pleasant 
weather,  and  it  was  very  uncertain  what  it  would 
be  when  I  was  ready  to  go  to  work  again,  and,  be- 
side, I  could  not  afford  to  remain  idle.  Finally, 
however,  my  books  came  to  hand,  and,  without 
the  delay  of  a  single  day,  I  set  out  for  the  country, 
having  decided  to  try  and  introduce  a  little  light 
among  the  benighted  farmers  of  that  region. 


356  THE    LIFE    OF    A    BOOK    AGENT. 

Candor,  however,  compels  me  to  admit  that  the 
dissemination  of  knowledge  was  not  the  only,  nor, 
indeed,  the  principal,  motive  which  induced  me  to 
take  a  basket  of  heavy  books  on  my  arm,  and  start 
on  a  pedestrian  excursion  for  the  rural  districts. 
No ;  anxious  as  I  am  to  do  all  the  good  I  can  in 
this  world,  it  is  very  doubtful  if  this  alone  would 
have  induced  me  to  adopt  the  character  of  a  mis- 
sionary among  that  people.  Nay,  more :  I  will 
confess  that  the  desire  to  replenish  my  purse  had 
more  to  do  with  my  resolution  than  the  desire  of 
"being  serviceable  to  my  fellow  men.  But  so  long 
as  the  motive  was  not  in  itself  evil,  I  am  confident 
my  readers  will  not  withhold  from  me  the  credit  of 
the  good  which  my  itinerancy  in  that  region  may 
have  done. 

One  good  effect  resulting  from  my  present  trip 
was  the  discovery  of  some  cases  of  destitution,  at 
which  humanity  must  shudder,  and  Christianity 
weep ;  and  which  demand  the  immediate  attention 
of  the  overseers  of  the  poor  for  the  county  of  Peo- 
ria — cases,  too,  which  would  never  have  been 
known  but  for  my  journey,  because  from  outward 
indications,  no  one  would  have  supposed  them  to 
exist.  Allow  me  to  illustrate  this  by  recounting  a 
single  incident. 

On  my  first  day  out  I  called  at  the  house  of  a 

Mr. ,  but,  no,  I  will  not  publish  his  name  to 

the  world,  but  will  furnish  it  to  the  overseers  of 
the  poor  upon  their  addressing  me  at  Indianapolis, 
Indiana,  and  sending  a  stamp  for  return  postage — 


THE   LIFE   OF    A    BOOK    AGENT.  357 

so  let  the  name  pass  for  tlie  present.  Suffice  it  to 
say  that  the  poor  wretch  lived  in  a  large  two-story 
frame  house,  while  the  yards,  filled  with  stock, 
and  barns  apparently  bursting  with  plenty,  seem- 
ed to  indicate  the  possession  of  many  of  the  com- 
forts of  life,  and  even  some  of  the  luxuries,  by  the 
proprietor — so  deceptive  are  appearances  often 
found  to  be  in  this  vain  world  of  ours. 

As  soon  as  my  soul  fell  upon  this  supposed 
abode  of  plenty,  I  chuckled  with  glee,  and  my 
heart  was  glad.  "  Now,"  said  I  to  myself,  "  here 
will  I  sell  large  numbers,  to- wit :  one  copy  of 
c  Tried  and  True,'  and  my  purse  shall  groan  with 
the  additional  burden  of  two  dollars  and  seventy- 
five  cents,  current  money  of  the  United  States, 
while  the  load  upon  my  arm  shall  be  proportion- 
ately lightened.  Alas !  how  vain  are  all  human 
calculations — how  deceptive  all  merely  mortal  ap- 
pearances. I  would  not  for  a  moment  have  sup- 
posed that  the  place  before  me  was  the  abode  of 
poverty  and  misery,  sufficient  to  have  drawn  tears 
from  the  eyes  of  a  potato.  But  I  was  soon  unde- 
ceived. 

As  I  opened  the  gate,  a  large  and  fierce-looking 
dog  came  forward,  with  much  noise  and  many 
demonstrations  of  anger  at  my  intrusion.  Now,  if 
I  have  any  pet  horror,  it  is  big  dogs,  especially 
when  they  act  as  this  one  did;  and  for  a  short 
time  I  stood  trembling,  and  actually  fearing  I 
should  be  rent  limb  from  limb,  after  the  very  un- 
pleasant manner  in  which  the  rulers  of  the  world 


358  THE   LIFE   OF   A   BOOK   AGENT. 

were  wont  to  treat  the  early  Christians.  At  length, 
however,  the  master  of  the  canine  brute  before  me 
made  his  appearance. 

"  Good  morning,  sir." 

"  Good  morning,  madam." 

"  I  am  afraid  of  your  dog.     Will  he  hurt  me  ? " 

"  O  no,  he  won't  hurt  you.  Go  away,  Beaver. 
Come  in,  madam.  Go  away,  Beaver — do  you  hear 
me?" 

"  I  am  so  much  afraid  of  dogs,  especially  such 
large,  savage  ones  as  this,  that  I  hardly  know 
what  to  do." 

"  He  is  not  savage.  He  makes  a  great  deal  of 
noise,  but  never  bites,  except  at  night." 

By  this  time  we  had  entered  the  house  where  sat 
a  lady  sewing.  The  house  was  furnished  in  a  very 
comfortable  style,  and  even  yet  I  had  no  idea  of 
the  wretched  poverty  which  existed  among  its  in- 
mates, and  which  was  soon  to  be  revealed  to  my 
astonished  vision.  I  resumed  the  conversation : 

"  I  am  a  book  agent,  and  have  here,  '  Tried  and 
True,'  a  new  work,  just  published,  and  would  like 
to  sell  you  a  copy.  Madam,  I  think  you  will  like 
the  book.  It  is  so  very  interesting  that  I  sat  up 
all  one  night  to  read  it.  Will  you  look  at  it  ? " 
and  I  handed  her  a  copy. 

She  hesitated,  but  finally  took  the  book,  looking, 
in  a  sort  of  scared,  startled  way,  at  her  husband. 
He  spoke : 

"  Well,  really,  madam,  I  should  like  to  buy  the 


THE   LIFE   OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  359 

Ibook,  but  really  times  are  too  hard,  and  I  am  too 
poor  to  buy  books  now." 

"What!  with  all  that  stock  in  the  yard;  with 
this  fine  house,  furnished  in  the  best  of  style  ;  those 
barns,  doubtless  filled  with  grain — you  are  too 
poor  to  buy  a  book,  the  price  of  which  is  only  two 
dollars  and  seventy-five  cents  !  " 

"  Yes,  madam,  I  am  really  too  poor.  Two  dol- 
lars and  seventy-five  cents,  did  you  say?  It  is  a 
large  sum,  and  can  not  be  picked  up  every  day." 

"  Do  you  own  this  farm  ? " 

"Yes,  ma'am." 

"  And  is  it  paid  for  ?  and  this  stock,  those  cattle 
and  horses — are  they  yours,  and  paid  for  ?  " 

"  Yes,  ma'am ;  I  own  it  all,  and  do  not  owe  any 
man  a  cent  in  the  world." 

"  And  yet  you  are  not  able  to  pay  two  dollars 
and  seventy-five  cents  for  a  most  interesting  book  ?" 

"Indeed,  I  am  not." 

u  Have  you  any  children  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  we  have  four — two  sons  and  two  daugh- 
ters ;  and  I  tell  you,  it  costs  a  heap  of  money  to 
feed  and  clothe  them." 

"  Well,  sir,  if  you  have  four  children  dependent 
upon  you  for  support,  and,  owning  all  the  property 
I  see  around  me,  you  are  still  unable  to  invest  two 
dollars  and  three-quarters  in  food  for  their  minds, 
I  pity  them  and  you.  I  would  not  be  as  mean  and 
miserly  as  that  for  the  wealth  of  Croesus.  Had 
you  given  any  other  reason  than  poverty  for  your 
refusal  to  subscribe,  I  should  have  accepted  it,  and 


360  THE   LIFE   OF   A    BOOK    AGENT. 

gone  my  way  without  a  word ;  but  the  idea  of  lack 
of  ability,  on  your  part,  is  too  ridiculous.  Rather 
say  you  are  too  miserly  to  aiford  your  children 
that  which  they  need  to  fit  them  to  discharge  their 
duties  in  life  with  due  propriety  and  credit  to 
themselves.  Good  day,  sir." 

With  this  exposition  of  my  feelings  upon  this 
subject,  I  took  my  book  from  the  lady  and  left  the 
house.  I  earnestly  commend  those  four  children 
to  the  attention  of  the  commissioners  of  Peoria 
county ;  for,  if  allowed  to  grow  up  under  the  kind 
and  fostering  care  (?)  of  their  unnatural  and  miser- 
ly father,  they  are  sure  to  become  fit  candidates 
for  the  gallows  or  the  State  prison,  and  it  may  cost 
the  county  more  to  care  for  them  in  that  way  than 
to  see  that  they  are  properly  cared  for  and  educat- 
ed in  their  youth.  "  An  ounce  of  preventive  is 
worth  a  pound  of  cure." 

But  such  instances  of  meanness,  I  am  happy  to 
state,  are,  so  far  as  my  experience  as  a  book  agent 
goes,  rare  in  the  United  States.  I  have  canvassed 
in  nearly  all  of  the  north-western  States,  and  have 
generally  found  the  people  more  ready  to  part 
with  their  money  for  the  purpose  of  procuring  the 
aliment  necessary  to  the  culture  and  development 
of  their  mental  faculties,  than  for  any  other  object. 
And  it  is  this  peculiarity  of  the  American  people 
which  gives  them  their  high  standing  as  an  intel- 
ligent and  enlightened  nation  among  the  powers 
of  the  earth,  and  renders  the  overthrow  of  liberty 
among  us  a  moral  impossibility.  It  is  no  unusual 


THE   LIFE   OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  361 

thing  to  find  the  house  of  a  poor  man,  who  toils 
from  day  to  day  for  his  daily  bread,  furnished 
with  a  well-selected  little  library,  in  which  works 
of  history  and  the  sciences  are  familiarly  inter- 
mingled with  those  lighter  works,  which,  while  they 
serve  to  amuse  and  occupy  a  passing  hour,  are  still 
not  without  their  lessons  of  wisdom  and  instruction 
to  the  inquiring  mind.  What,  though  such  a  man 
wear  patched  clothes,  or  be  even  clad  in  tatters  ; 
what,  though  his  wife's  best  dress  be  but  a  "  cal- 
ico," or  a  simple  muslin ;  what,  though  his  furni- 
ture be  plain,  and  his  table  be  furnished  with  no 
silverware  or  costly  viands  :  still  can  I  respect  and 
admire  such  a  man,  for  I  know  that  in  him  good- 
ness and  honor  abound,  and  that  the  liberty  be- 
queathed to  us  by  our  forefathers  has  there  a 
sturdy  and  uncompromising  defense.  But,  once 
more  to  my  labors. 

I  canvassed  all  this  week  (or  rather  what  was 
left  of  it,  for  I  did  not  start  out  until  Wednesday), 
sold  out  all  my  books,  and  finally  found  myself, 
on  Saturday  night,  the  inmate  of  a  farm-house, 
about  eight  miles  from  Chillicothe,  which  place, 
the  reader  will  please  to  remember,  was  now  my 
headquarters.  I  had  now  canvassed,  pretty  thor- 
oughly, all  my  county,  except  one  little  town,  by 
the  name  of  London,  and  its  vicinity ;  and  I  was 
so  anxious  to  finish  my  work  that  I  decided  to  go 
to  Chillicothe  the  next  day.  Sunday  morning 
came.  It  was  a  bright,  pleasant  day,  and  there 
being  no  conveyance  at  hand,  and  learning  that 


362  THE   LIFE   OF   A   BOOK   AGEJST. 

the  roads  were  good  all  the  way,  I  set  out,  in  the 
early  morning,  to  walk  there.  It  was  quite  an  un- 
dertaking for  me,  considering  that  it  was  not  my 
intention  to  stop  by  the  way ;  but  it  must  be  re- 
membered that  I  had  been  practicing  pedestrian- 
ism  considerably  of  late,  and  I  boldly  essayed  the 
march.  I  reached  my  boarding-house  a  little  after 
noon,  pretty  thoroughly  worn  out,  and  entirely 
willing  to  rest  the  next  day ;  thus  gaining  nothing 
whatever  by  my  Sunday's  tramp. 

On  Tuesday,  however,  feeling  sufficiently  refresh- 
ed, I  set  out  for  Loudon,  and,  going  vigorously  to 
work,  canvassed  the  place  in  a  short  time,  selling 
ten  copies  of  the  work  there.  Loudon  I  found  to 
be  a  very  pleasant  little  place ;  and  the  result  of 
my  labors  there  will  demonstrate  to  the  satisfac- 
tion of  every  one  that  it  was  inhabited  by  a  class 
of  people  very  different  from  those  I  had  found  at 
Princeville  and  one  or  two  other  places  in  the 
county.  But  it  mattered  very  little  to  me  now.  I 
had  finished  my  work  among  them,  and  was  about 
to  leave  their  midst,  while  it  was  extremely  un- 
certain whether  I  would  ever  meet  any  of  them 
again. 

At  that  time  I  had  but  little  idea  of  ever  pub- 
lishing this  sketch  of  my  life — much  less  that  I 
should,  in  person,  canvass  Peoria  county  for  sub- 
scribers, which  I  shall,  in  all  probability  do,  if 
Heaven  spares  my  life,  and  nothing  occurs  to  pre- 
vent my  doing  so. 

Upon  leaving  Loudon  I  returned  at  once  to  Chilli- 


THE   LIFE   OF    A   BOOK    AGENT.  363 

cothe,  from  which  place  I  intended  to  take  my 
final  departure  to  Chicago,  there  to  perfect  arrange- 
ments for  more  extensive  work  in  my  new  line  of 
duty  ;  for  I  had  no  idea  of  giving  up  the  business 
of  selling  books  by  subscription.  It  was  reason- 
ably profitable,  and  would  afford  me  a  comfortable 
living ;  I  liked  the  sort  of  excitement  and  change 
attending  it ;  and,  beside,  it  kept  my  mind  con- 
stantly employed,  to  the  almost  utter  exclusion  of 
contemplation  of  the  hideous  past.  For  these  rea- 
sons it  was  my  intention  to  still  pursue  it ;  and,  in 
order  to  render  that  pursuit  even  more  successful, 
it  was  necessary  that  I  should  repair  to  Chicago  to 
make  some  new  and  more  extended  arrangements. 


CHAPTEE  XXII. 

IT  had  become  absolutely  necessary  for  me  to 
visit  Chicago  in  order  to  provide  means  for  my  fu- 
ture support.  I  was  now  out  of  work — had  finished 
the  task  assigned  me —  and  without  work  it  was 
impossible  for  me  to  live.  And  work  I  could  not 
get  except  by  going  there.  There  was  one  consid- 
eration which  rendered  my  contemplated  visit 
somewhat  distasteful  to  me.  Frank  C.  Ford  still 
lived  there,  and  I  did  not  wish  to  meet  him  under 
any  circumstances.  Of  course  it  was  not  absolutely 
certain  that  we  would  meet — my  stay  there  would 
be  brief — but  still  we  might,  and  a  meeting  would 
be  in  the  last  degree  unpleasant  to  me.  But  I 
could  not  sit  still  and  starve,  and  go  I  must. 

Before  going,  however,  I  must  get  myself  a  few 
things  which  were  necessary  to  render  me  present- 
able in  the  city.  I  needed  a  new  bonnet  to  replace 
the  one  I  had  worn  last  winter ;  my  gloves  were 
worn  out ;  my  shoes,  though  very  suitable  for  can- 
vassing on  foot  throughout  the  county  of  Peoria, 
were  hardly  the  things  to  wear  upon  the  streets  of 
Chicago ;  in  fact,  I  needed  a  full  supply  of  those 
little  articles  which  ladies  buy  when  they  go 
"  shopping."  But,  dear  me,  I  would  rather  canvass 
half  a  day  on  foot  in  the  country  than  to  go  out 

(364) 


THE   LIFE   OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  365 

"  shopping"  for  a  single  half  hour.  How  ladies 
can  admire  these  shopping  expeditions  is  more 
than  I  can  conceive.  There  is  nothing  in  life  that 
seems  more  annoying  to  me  than  to  start  out' and 
go  from  place  to  place,  looking  for  this  article  or 
that,  arid  finally  going  home  after  having  bought 
perhaps  a  dollar's  worth  of  goods.  But  there  are 
women  who  really  enjoy  this  sort  of  thing;  who 
will  go  from  place  to  place  for  an  entire  day,  for 
the  sole  purpose  of  looking  at  goods,  and  with  no 
intention  of  buying  anything,  and  who  finally  re- 
turn* home,  after  having  annoyed,  as  much  as  was 
in  their  power,  every  shop-keeper  and  clerk  on 
their  route  without  having  bought  a  single  thing. 
I  said  they  were  women — pardon  me,  they  are  not 
— they  are  mere  puppets  of  fashion,  the  extent  of 
whose  ambition  is  only  to  appear  in  the  latest  fash- 
ion, and  to  serve  as  a  sort  of  walking  advertisement 
for  certain  fashionable  milliners  and  dress-makers. 
But  for  them  the  latter  class  would  starve. 

But  however  distasteful  it  might  be,  my  shop- 
ping had  to  be  done,  and  so  I  set  about  it  energet- 
ically. I  was  now  out  of  debt,  and  had  fifty-five 
dollars  in  money,  honestly  and  fairly  earned  by 
my  own  toil,  and  there  was  no  reason  why  I  should 
go  to  Chicago  looking  as  shabbily  as  I  now  did.  I 
therefore  went  out  and  bought  what  I  needed,  in- 
cluding a  black  bonnet ;  for,  as  I  was  passing  for 
a  widow,  it  was  but  proper  for  me  to  assume,  to 
some  extent,  the  appearance  of  one.  Besides,  if 
black  is  a  symbol  of  sorrow,  surely  my  past  life 


366  THE  LIFE   OF   A   BOOK   AGENT. 

had  been  such  as  to  entitle  me  to  wear  black  as 
long  as  I  should  live,  even  though  I  should  attain 
to  the  age  of  Methuselah. 

When  I  had  completed  my  purchases  and  fitted 
myself  out  to  my  entire  satisfaction,  I  took  the  cars 
for  Chicago,  arriving  there  without  any  incidents 
worthy  of  note.  I  went  at  once  to  the  Sherman 
House,  and  registered  myself  as  Mrs.  Ford,  of  Chi- 
cago. I  knew  they  published  daily  lists  of  their 
arrivals,  and  thought  Frank  would  thus  learn  that 
I  was  in  the  city ;  for  though  I  should  take  no 
pains  to  find  him,  still  I  was  weak  enough  to  in- 
dulge a  little  hope,  in  spite  of  my  resolution  not  to 
see  him,  or  have  any  communication  with  him, 
that  when  he  found  that  I  was  in  Chicago,  he  would 
come  to  see  me.  What  might  have  been  the  result 
if  he  had  done  so,  is  more  than  can  now  be  told,  for 
at  times  I  still  loved  him,  in  spite  of  myself,  but 
he  never  came,  although  I  heard  of  him  before 
leaving  the  city,  as  will  presently  appear.  I  now 
rejoice  that  he  did  not  come. 

After  getting  settled  at  the  Sherman  House,  I 
went  to  call  on  Mr.  Holland,  at  38  Lombard  Block. 
He  was  very  glad  to  see  me,  and  complimented  me 
very  highly  on  my  success,  saying  my  sales  had 
exceeded  those  of  any  other  of  his  agents  during 
the  same  time,  and  that  he  hoped  that  I  would  take 
another  county.  I  told  him  I  wished  to  go  to  In- 
diana, and  would  like  to  have  two  points  there, 
Indianapolis  and  Michigan  City.  The  reader  is 
well  aware  of  the  reasons  which  induced  me  to 


THE    LIFE    OF   A    BOOK    AGENT.  367 

seek  the  former  place  ;  and  I  had  good,  and,  to  my- 
self, satisfactory  reasons  for  wanting  to  go  to  the 
latter,  though  it  is  not  necessary  to  tell  what  they 
were. 

Mr.  Holland  replied  that  he  could  give  me  Mich- 
igan City,  but  that  Indianapolis  was  not  in  his 
district,  it  was  under  control  of  the  Columbus,  Ohio, 
general  agency,  but  he  thought  he  could  get  it  for 
me,  and  would  try  and  do  so.  I  thanked  him  for 
his  kindness,  and  having  no  further  business  to 
transact  with  him,  went  at  once  to  make  arrange- 
ments for  my  departure  to  my  new  field  of  labor. 

I  went  back  to  the  Sherman  House,  eat  my  din- 
ner and  paid  for  it,  and  then  went  to  call  on  Mr. 
Kennedy,  the  publisher  of  "  The  Home  Circle,"  and 
largely  interested  in  the  sale  of  "  The  Memorial  of 
President  Lincoln,"  and  applied  to  him  for  the 
agency  of  both  those  publications.  Mr.  Holland 
had  given  me  some  very  flattering  testimonials,  and 
I  had  no  difficulty  in  forming  an  engagement  with 
Mr.  Kennedy,  not  only  to  canvass  Michigan  City, 
but  also  Indianapolis.  I  then  went  back  to  the 
Sherman  House,  ordered  my  baggage  to  the  depot, 
and  checked  my  trunks  to  Indianapolis,  intending 
to  stop  but  a  short  time  in  Michigan  City.  It  was 
still  some  hours  until  the  train  would  start,  and  I 
again  went  down  town  and  bought  a  dozen  photo- 
graphs of  distinguished  Generals,  for  which  I  paid 
the  sum  of  one  dollar.  I  had  to  purchase  copies 
of  "The  Home  Circle,"  and  of  "The  Memorial," 


368  THE   LIFE   OF   A    BOOK   AGENT. 

and  I  now  had  but  two  dollars  and  some  few  cents 
left  in  my  purse. 

As  I  was  walking  down  State  street,  on  my  way 
to  the  depot,  a  gentleman  bowed  to  me  from  a  street 
car  which  was  passing,  and  stopping  the  car  got 
out  and  came  toward  me.  At  first  I  did  not  recog- 
nize him,  but  when  he  came  up  and  offered  me  his 
hand  I  knew  him.  It  was  Robert  Ford,  a  brother 
of  my  husband.  He  told  me  Frank  was  somewhere 
in  the  city,  and  was  doing  much  better  than  he  had 
formerly  done.  I  told  him  he  might  tell  him  when 
he  saw  him  that  I  was  living  in  Indiana,  and  was 
now  on  my  way  home ;  that  I  was  doing  well  and 
asked  no  help  from  him,  and  that  I  had  called  on 
him  the  last  time  for  assistance.  He  asked  me 
when  I  was  going  to  leave  the  city ;  arid  I  told  him 
I  should  go  on  the  first  train  over  the  Michigan 
Central  Road.  Would  he  come  to  the  depot  ?  I 
would  like  to  have  a  talk  with  him.  He  asked  me 
what  time  the  cars  left.  I  told  him  about  seven 
o'clock ;  and  he  said  he  would  be  there  before  that 
time. 

We  then  parted,  and  I  began  to  reflect  upon  the 
probable  results  of  the  proposed  interview,  and  de- 
cided that  it  had  better  not  take  place.  I  was 
afraid  he  would  bring  Frank  with  him,  and  that 
they  would  suspect  my  motive  in  removing  to  In- 
diana, and  would  take  steps  to  prevent  the  accom- 
plishment of  my  purpose.  And,  to  tell  the  truth, 
I  was  afraid  to  meet  my  husband.  In  spite  of  all 
his  wrongs  I  still  loved  him,  and  I  was  afraid  my 


THE  LIFE   OF   A   BOOK    AGENT.  369 

treacherous  heart,  in  case  he  made  any  overtures 
to  me,  would  betray  me  into  living  with  him  again, 
which  I  had  fully  made  up  my  mind  never  to  do. 
Accordingly  I  changed  my  plans,  and  instead  of 
waiting  until  seven  o'clock,  went  away  on  a  freight 
train  which  left  at  five.  If  Robert  Ford  reads 
these  lines,  he  will  understand  why  he  did  not  find 
me  when  he  came  to  the  depot  that  evening,  if  he 
came  at  all. 

I  arrived  in  Michigan  City  with  but  fifteen  or 
twenty  cents  in  my  purse,  but  this  gave  me  very 
little  trouble.  I  had  been  in  just  as  bad  a  situa- 
tion as  this  before,  and  by  putting  a  bold  face  on 
the  matter,  and  going  to  work  with  reasonable  en- 
ergy, had  succeeded  in  getting  through  with  my 
troubles ;  and  there  was  no  reason  why  I  should 
not  do  so  again. 

I  went  to  the  hotel  and  freely  told  the  landlord 
my  situation — how  I  had  come  there  to  canvass  the 
place  for  subscribers  for  "  Tried  and  True,"  and 
"  The  Life  of  Mr.  Lincoln  ;  "  that  I  also  had  some 
photographs  for  sale,  and  that  I  had  neither  money 
nor  baggage,  having  sent  my  baggage  to  Indian- 
apolis, whether  I  was  going  as  soon  as  I  had  can- 
vassed that  place.  He  heard  me  through,  then 
asked  to  see  my  photographs.  I  showed  them  to 
him,  and  told  him  the  price  at  which  I  sold  them — 
twenty-five  cents  each.  He  took  four  in  payment 
of  my  bill  for  supper,  bed  and  breakfast,  and  I 
started  out  to  sell  the  balance,  which  I  did  in  a 
very  few  minutes  and  could  have  sold  three  times 

24 


370  THE   LIFE    OF   A   BOOK    AGENT. 

as  many  more  if  I  had  had  them.  The  people  of 
Michigan  City  are  very  patriotic,  and  the  photo- 
graphs of  successful  leaders  of  the  Union  army  are 
good  stock  to  sell  among  them.  I  had  further 
evidence  of  this  patriotism  the  next  day. 

The  next  day  I  went  to  work,  and  by  vigorous 
exertions  succeeded  in  obtaining  four  subscribers, 
three  of  them  being  to  the  life  of  our  late  murdered 
President,  and  only  one  to  "  Tried  and  True."  I 
returned  to  supper  at  night  almost  tired  out  and 
went  to  bed  very  early.  It  was  plain  to  me  that 
something  must  be  done  by  which  I  could  realize 
more  money  among  these  "  sand  hillers."  They 
all  admired  Mr.  Lincoln  and  would  buy  his  life  if 
they  had  time  to  read  it,  but  the  excitement  about 
the  construction  of  their  harbor  was  just  beginning 
to  assume  the  form  of  an  epidemic,  and  no  one 
seemed  able  or  willing  to  spend  any  time  in  read- 
ing, or  even  talking  about  anything  but  perches  of 
stone,  Government  piers,  dredge-boats,  water  lots, 
and  eligible  corners.  One  man,  a  prominent  law- 
yer of  the  place,  upon  my  asking  him  to  buy  "  The 
Life  of  Lincoln,"  somewhat  startled  me  by  reply- 
ing, "  If  the  title  is  all  right  I  will  give  you  one 
hundred  and  twenty  dollars  a  foot.  Did  you  say 
it  fronted  on  the  creek  ? "  I  explained  to  him  that 
it  was  a  book  and  not  a  water  lot,  or  sand-hill,  I 
was  trying  to  sell,  whereat  he  became  disgusted 
and  refused  to  hold  any  further  communication 
with  me.  But,  with  all  their  hurry,  they  would 
take  time  to  buy  and  look  at  photographs,  for  these 


THE   LIFE    OF    A    BOOK    AGENT.  371 

took  neither  time  or  mental  labor  to  comprehend, 
and  left  them  free  to  pursue  their  favorite  specula- 
tions. It  was  plain,  then,  that  this  was  my  best 
line  of  investment.  Accordingly  I  ordered  another 
lot  of  these  from  Chicago,  and  while  waiting  for 
them  to  come,  made  one  more  effort  to  break 
through  the  crust  of  speculation  which  seemed  to 
enclose  the  entire  people.  My  success  was  but 
limited,  for  a  hard  day's  work  only  added  two 
names  to  my  list  of  subscribers  for  the  life  of  the 
President,  and  one  to  the  list  of  "  Tried  and  True." 
But  when  my  photographs  came  business  revived 
again,  and  I  soon  disposed  of  all  I  had  and  ordered 
more. 

But  my  day  of  usefulness  in  this  place  was  evi- 
dently on  the  wane,  and  I  decided  to  go  to  La  Porte 
and  try  my  fortune  there  for  a  short  time.  I  could 
not  canvass  there  for  "  Tried  and  True,"  but  I  could 
sell  photographs  and  take  names  for  "  The  Memo- 
rial;" for,  although  Mr.  Kennedy  had  only  ap- 
pointed me  agent  for  Indianapolis  and  Michigan 
City,  he  had  told  me  verbally  that  the  entire  State 
was  open,  and  that  I  might  sell  anywhere  I  could. 
But  at  La  Porte  I  fared  even  worse  than  at  Michi- 
gan City,  though  from  causes  altogether  different. 
The  people  there  were  not  so  madly  engaged  in 
absurd  speculations  upon  the  value  of  inaccessible 
sand  mountains  ;  but  their  superior  intelligence  and 
devotion  to  the  memory  of  our  martyred  President 
had  already  induced  them  to  invest  very  liberally 
in  remembrances  of  his  greatness ;  and  in  nearly 


372  THE    LITE    OF    A    BOOK    AGENT. 

every  house  I  visited  I  found  a  copy  of  some  one  of 
the  numerous  "Lives"  which  had  already  found 
their  way  into  print.  At  another  time  and  with 
another  work  I  found  La  Porte  to  be  a  most  excel- 
lent place  for  book  agents  who  pursue  their  labors 
legitimately  and  honestly  ;  but  the  community  was 
already  supplied  with  what  I  had  now  to  sell,  and 
of  course  my  labors  were  in  vain.  But,  notwithstand- 
ing my  poor  success,  I  liked  the  place  so  much  that 
I  almost  decided  to  settle  there  permanently  if  I 
ever  should  get  money  enough  ahead  to  buy  me  a 
home  anywhere.  Some  of  my  warmest  friends  re- 
side in  La  Porte  ;  and  whether  I  ever  settle  there  or 
not  I  shall  always  retain  a  most  lively  recollection 
of  that  most  beautiful  city  of  northern  Indiana. 

Returning  to  Michigan  City  after  an  absence  of 
three  days  I  was  fortunate  enough  to  strike  a  vein 
which,  by  being  vigorously  worked,  yielded  some 
very  substantial  returns.  The  first  thing  I  did  after 
my  return  was  to  procure  and  sell  two  dozen  photo- 
graphs, which  I  did  in  one  day.  The  next  day  I 
spent  in  canvassing  and  with  a  degree  of  success 
which  astonished  even  myself — taking  no  less  than 
eight  subscribers  for  "The  Life  of  Lincoln,"  three 
•lor  "Tried  and  True,"  and  five  for  "  The  Home  Cir- 
cle." Such  success  in  view  of  my  former  experi- 
ence there  was  truly  surprising,  and  inclined  me  to 
think  more  kindly  of  Michigan  City  and  its  inhab- 
itants than  had  been  my  wont.  Nay  ;  I  even  for- 
gave the  lawyer  before-mentioned  for  his  absent- 
mindedness,  and  nearly  resolved  not  to  put  him  in 


THE   LIFE   OF   A    BOOK    AGENT.  373 

my  book ;  but  I-  finally  compromised  the  matter  by 
deciding  to  publish  the  incident,  but  to  keep  his 
name  to  myself;  hence  none  of  my  friends  need  ask 

me  for  it.  I  hope  Mr. will  thank  me  for  even 

this  degree  of  forbearance. 

Having  about  finished  my  work  in  Michigan 
City,  I  ordered  books  for  all  my  subscribers,  for- 
warded Mr.  Kennedy  the  names  of  subscribers  to 
"  The  Home  Circle,"  and,  when  my  books  came, 
proceeded  to  deliver  them  without  delay,  having 
done  which  I  took  an  account  of  funds  on  hand, 
and  found  I  had  enough  to  pay  my  fare  to  Indian- 
apolis and  to  pay  a  week's  board  after  I  got  there. 
This  was  eminently  satisfactory  ;  for  I  felt  sure 
that  before  the  week  would  expire  I  could  do 
enough  to  again  replenish  my  purse. 

Accordingly,  I  settled  up  all  my  bills  in  Michi- 
gan Citjr,  and,  embarking  upon  the  cars  of  that 
horror  of  all  travelers,  the  Louisville,  JS"ew  Albany 
and  Chicago  Railroad,  in  due  time  arrived  at  the 
capital  city  of  the  Hoosier  State.  Upon  inquiry, 
and  presenting  my  checks  at  the  baggage-room  of 
the  Union  Depot,  I  found  them  all  right,  they 
having  been  there,  the  baggage-man  said,  with  an 
air  as  if  he  were  relating  some  wonderful  circum- 
stance, a  full  week,  if  not  more.  I  beg  to  remind 
the  reader  that  my  trunks  had  been  sent  direct 
from  Chicago,  and  that  it  had  not  taken  me  a  week 
or  more  to  come  from  Michigan  City  to  this  place. 

I  make  this  explanation  in  order  that  no  in- 
justice may  be  done  to  the  rapidity  with  which 


374  THE   LIFE   OF   A   BOOK   AGEJST. 

the  Louisville,  New  Albany  and  Chicago  Railroad 
transports  its  passengers ;  and  I  take  great  pleas- 
ure in  saying,  that  a  person  might,  even  at  that 
time,  go  by  this  route,  from  Michigan  City  to  In- 
dianapolis, in  less  than  a  week ;  and,  since  then, 
the  management  and  speed  of  the  cars  upon  that 
road  have  been  materially  improved. 

My  first  care  was  to  look  for  a  suitable  board- 
ing-place— the  man  with  whom  I  had  left  my 
trunk,  when  there  before,  having  gone  away ;  leav- 
ing my  baggage,  however,  at  the  house  of  a  neigh- 
bor until  I  should  call  for  it.  I  found  a  good  room 
at  the  house  of  a  Mr.  Joseph  Aston,  No  44  South 
Tennessee  Street;  paid  him  six  dollars  for  a 
week's  board,  in  advance,  and  moved  my  things 
there,  designing  to  make  it  my  home,  at  least  until 
I  had  accomplished  one  of  the  objects  which  first 
induced  me  to  remove  my  residence  to  Indiana. 


CHAPTER    XXIIL 

BEHOLD  me,  then,  dear  reader,  fairly  domiciled 
in  the  State  which  was  to  be  my  future  residence. 

Tis  true,  my  home  had  been  here  for  some  time, 
but  I  had  been  so  much  away  on  business,  that, 
up  to  this  time,  I  hardly  ventured  to  call  myself  a 
Hoosier,  even  by  adoption;  but  now  I  felt  that  the 
title  really  belonged  to  me,  and  I  could  say,  with- 
out any  mental  reservation,  that  I  was  an  Indi- 
anian. 

I  did  nothing  more  than  to  establish  my  quarters, 
upon  the  day  of  my  arrival  in  the  city,  it  being 
near  nightfall,  and  I  very  much  wearied  when  I 
arrived  there ;  but  the  next  day  I  went  to  work 
with  a  will,  and,  by  hard  and  steady  effort,  suc- 
ceeded in  getting  ten  subscribers  to  the  "  Life  of 
Lincoln,"  and  two  for  "  Tried  and  True."  I  order- 
ed a  lot  of  books,  of  both  kinds,  and  went  on  with 
my  canvassing,  thinking  the  prospects  were  very 
favorable  for  my  doing  a  good  business  there. 
But,  alas !  how  deceptive  are  all  human  appear- 
ances. I  soon  found  that  the  flattering  prospects, 
under  which  I  had  started  out,  were  but  for  a  day ; 
that  they  were  even  more  ephemeral  than  the  but- 
terfly, and  that,  with  the  works  I  had,  it  was  im- 
possible to  succeed  there.  The  citizens  of  Indian- 
apolis were  too  well  supplied  with  literature  of  the 

(375) 


376  THE   LIFE    OF    A    BOOK   AGENT. 

class  I  was  selling,  and  it  was  necessary  for  me  to 
have  something  else — something  which  had  not 
been  already  sold  there ;  and  at  the  same  time  I 
was  sufficiently  aware  of  the  state  of  the  public 
mind  to  know  that  something  connected  with  the 
late  rebellion  would  sell  better  than  anything  else. 

Accordingly,  after  having  labored  over  a  week, 
and  taken  about  twenty-one  names  for  all  my  pub- 
lications together,  I  wrote  to  a  Mr.  Lillie,  of  Chi- 
cago, for  the  agency  of  "  The  Lost  Cause,"  a  South- 
ern history  of  the  war,  by  Mr.  Pollard,  late  editor 
of  the  "  Richmond  Examiner."  Mr.  Lillie  referred 
me  to  Mr.  George  B.  Fessenden,  of  Cincinnati,  and 
I  at  once  addressed  him  on  the  subject,  receiving 
by  express,  in  return,  the  agency  of  the  work,  ac- 
companied with  a  prospectus,  subscription  book, 
and  some  instructions.  As  for  the  last,  however, 
I  fancied  that  I  knew  about  as  much  about  the 
business  of  a  book  agent  as  Mr.  Fessenden  did. 

I  immediately  went  to  work  with  my  new  book? 
and  found  that,  if  I  only  knew  what  parties  to  ap- 
proach, a  very  good  business  could  be  done ;  but  I 
was  too  much  of  a  stranger  in  the  city,  and  knew 
not  where  to  apply.  I  thought  if  I  could  get  an 
agent  who  was  well  acquainted  in  the  city,  and 
have  that  agent  take  orders,  while  I  would  deliver 
the  books,  we  could  make  the  arrangement  mutu- 
ally profitable.  Accordingly  I  inserted,  in  the 
"Herald,"  the  following  notice  : 

WANTED — A  person,  well  acquainted  in  the  city, 
to  canvass  for  the  "  Southern  History  of  the  War, 


THE   LIFE    OF   A   BOOK    AGENT.  377 

by  E.  A.  Pollard."  Call  at  No.  44  South  Tennessee 
Street.  No  one  need  apply  unless  they  are  well 
acquainted  in  the  city,  and  can  bring  good  refer- 
ences. 

In  a  few  hours  after  this  notice  made  its  appear- 
ance, I  had  several  callers,  and  soon  succeeded  in 
making  an  arrangement  with  a  gentleman  to  can- 
vass on  my  own  terms.  It  is  not  necessary  to  give 
these  terms  to  the  reader,  suffice  it  to  say  that  it 
worked  well,  and  I  soon  found  I  could  pay  my 
agent  all  that  I  had  agreed  to,  and  still  make  more 
money  than  when  I  was  alone.  While  he  canvass- 
ed, I  delivered  the  books,  and  also  continued  my 
trade  in  photographs,  of  which  I  sold  a  great  many ; 
and  the  profits  upon  them  being  enormous,  I  was 
doing  a  very  fine  business.  In  about  two  weeks 
we  had  sold  no  less  than  fifty  copies  of  "  The  Los-t 
Cause,"  and  my  profits  from  that  source  alone  were 
about  fifty  dollars.  Add  to  this  the  fact  that  I 
made  about  as  much  more  from  the  sale  of  photo- 
graphs, and  the  reader  will  have  no  difficulty  iu 
comprehending  the  fact  that  my  business  was  in  a, 
flourishing  condition. 

About  this  time  I  learned  that  the  property  left 
by  my  brother  Frank,  when  he  went  into  the  rebel 
army,  had  been  confiscated  by  order  of  the  author- 
ities at  Washington,  and  made  application  for  its 
restitution ;  alleging  my  own  loyalty  as  the  ground 
of  my  claim.  I  received  a  favorable  reply  to  my 
application,  and  was  fully  satisfied  that  if  I  had 
the  money  to  go  South  and  hunt  up  the  proofs  and 


378  THE   LIFE    OF   A    BOOK    AGENT. 

submit  them  to  the  consideration  of  the  proper 
officers,  there  would  be  no  difficulty  in  my  succeed- 
ing ;  but  there  was  the  rub.  The  one  hundred  dol- 
lars in  my  possession  would  go  but  a  little  way  in 
the  prosecution  of  a  claim  of  so  much  magnitude 
as  this,  and  whatever  was  to  be  done  must  be  done 
quickly,  and  the  only  thing  I  could  do  was  to  work 
the  harder,  and  raise  all  that  I  possibly  could  for 
this  purpose. 

The  holidays  were  close  at  hand,  and  it  occurred 
to  me  that  if  I  had  a  book  suitable  for  a  Christmas 
or  New  Year's  gift,  I  might  do  well  with  that  for 
the  next  two  or  three  weeks,  and  having  noticed 
in  the  Journal  the  advertisement  of  such  a  book, 
published  by  a  Mr.  Newell,  in  Yinton's  Block,  I 
called  upon  him  arid  secured  the  agency  for  the 
sale  of  it.  It  was  called  "  The  Republican  Court," 
and  was  a  most  beautifully  gotten-up  book — -just 
the  thing  for  a  young  man  to  use  in  softening  the 
obdurate  heart  of  his  lady  love.  Armed  with  this 
document,  in  addition  to  those  I  had  on  hand  al- 
ready, I  went  to  work  with  a  vigor  which  produced 
the  most  happy  results,  and,  in  a  short  time,  felt 
myself  able,  pecuniarily,  to  undertake  my  contem- 
plated journey  to  the  South. 

Before  starting,  however,  I  shipped,  by  express, 
to  a  dear  friend  in  San  Francisco,  California,  a 
copy  of  The  Republican  Court,  The  Lost  Cause, 
and  a  finely-bound  copy  of  Robinson  Crusoe,  as  a 
holiday  gift.  I  trust  he  received  them  in  due  time, 
and  that  they  served  to  assure  him  that  there  was 


THE   LIFE   OF   A   BOOK    AGENT.  379 

one  in  the  world  who  will  never,  never  forget  his 
kindness  to  her  in  her  hour  of  trouble. 

I  then  arranged  my  affairs  so  as  to  leave  all  rny 
business  in  the  city  in  the  hands  of  the  agent  be- 
fore referred  to,  and  started  out,  intending  to  go  to 
the  South  before  I  came  back  to  Indianapolis 
again,  which  must  be  by  the  first  of  April  next  en- 
suing. I  had  commenced  proceedings  for  a  divorce 
from  my  husband,  and  as  the  case  would  be  tried 
in  April,  I  felt  that  it  was  necessary  for  me  to  be 
in  the  city  at  that  time. 

I  went  as  far  as  Shelbyville,  in  company  with 
another  lady ;  stopped  off  there,  and  staid  a  few 
days,  selling  several  books,  and  then  went  on  to 
Cincinnati,  where  I  wished  to  have  an  interview 
with  Mr.  Fessenden,  relative  to  affairs  in  Indian- 
apolis, and  some  other  business  matters.  In  due 
time  I  arrived  in  Cincinnati  and  at  once  called  on 
Mr.  Fessenden,  who  was  not  a  little  surprised  to 
see  me,  and  earnestly  asked  me  why  I  left  Indian- 
apolis. I  replied  by  giving  him  the  address  of  my 
agent  there,  and  telling  him  that  I  had  left  every- 
thing in  his  hands,  and  that  I  thought  he  would 
find  no  cause  of  complaint  against  him. 

"But,  Mrs.  Ford,"  said  he,  "we  cannot  give  you 
up  as  an  agent.  You  are  altogether  too  valuable 
to  us." 

"  But  I  have  worked  a  long  time  for  you,"  said 
I,  "  and  now  I  must  work  for  myself  a  little." 

"  Have  you  not  been  working  for  yourself  at  the 
same  time  you  were  working  for  me  ?  Has  not  the 


380  THE   LIFE   OF   A    BOOK    AGENT. 

sale  of  my  publications  been  profitable  to  you  as 
well  as  to  me  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  but  there  are  other  matters  which  claim 
my  attention." 

"  What  are  these  other  matters  ?  Are  you  going 
to  marry  and  give  up  selling  books  ? " 

"No,"  I  replied  laughing;  "lam  not  going  to 
marry.  I  am  going  to  return  to  my  old  home'  in 
the  South." 

And  then  I  told  him  about  my  application  for 
the  restitution  of  the  confiscated  property  of  my 
brother,  and  that  I  was  going  South  to  find  the 
evidence  relative  to  it. 

"  Just  the  thing,"  said  he.  "  Take  some  of  my 
publications  along  with  you  to  sell,  and  thus  help 
to  defray  your  expenses.  I  have  no  agents  in  the 
South,  and  you  can  sell  wherever  you  see  proper." 

"  But  times  are  so  hard  down  there,  that  I  am 
afraid  nothing  can  be  done." 

"  I  do  not  suppose  you  can  sell  as  many  books 
there  as  you  can  in  the  North,  but  still  I  believe 
you  can  do  something,  and  every  little  helps,  you 
know." 

"  What  have  you  that  I  can  sell  there  ? " 

"  Take  c  The  Lost  Cause.'  " 

"  I  would  prefer  something  else." 

"  Well,  I  have  a  new  book,  just  out,  with  which 
I  am  sure  you  can  do  well  there.  I  will  appoint 
you  a  roving  agent  anywhere  in  the  Southern 
States." 

"What  is  it?" 


THE    LIFE    OF    A    BOOK   AGENT.  381 

"  The  General  History  of  Freemasonry  in  Eir 
rope  ;  translated  from  the  French  of  Emanuel  Re- 
bold,  by  J.  F.  Brennan,  Esq." 

The  title  of  the  book  struck  me  favorably.  I 
had  long  been  an  ardent  admirer  of  Freemasonry ; 
my  father  and  brother  Frank  had  both  been 
Masons,  as  also  my  stepfather,  Captain  Lake  ;  and 
I  felt  that  these  facts  gave  me  some  claims  upon 
the  fraternity,  and  that,  aside  from  the  intrinsic 
merits  of  the  work,  they  would  aid  me  in  effecting 
sales  of  it  among  the  craft.  I  knew,  too,  that  Free- 
masonry had  very  many  followers  in  the  South, 
and  that  they  were  generally  very  ardently  at- 
tached to  the  order,  and  would  be  more  likely  to 
buy  a  book  upon  that  subject  than  any  other.  I 
had  my  father's  diploma  in  my  possession,  and  the 
exhibition  of  this  would  help  to  prove  my  claims 
upon  the  Masonic  brotherhood ;  and,  even  if  I  fail- 
ed in  the  attempt  to  sell,  it  would  involve  but  very 
little  expense — only  the  cost  of  the  outfit — while, 
if  I  succeeded,  the  result  could  not  be  otherwise 
than  good,  in  more  senses  than  one.  These  reflec- 
tions decided  me  in  favor  of  taking  the  appoint- 
ment he  offered  me  ;  and  I  told  him  I  would  accept 
his  proposition,  paid  him  for  a  book,  bid  him  good- 
bye, and  returned  to  my  hotel. 

Upon  examining  the  book,  I  found  the  names  of 
some  of  my  ancestors  honorably  mentioned  in  its 
pages,  and  was  more  than  ever  satisfied  that  I  had 
accepted  Mr.  Fessenden's  proposition.  I  now  felt 
that  I  had  a  direct  personal  interest  in  the  work ; 


382  THE   LIFE   OF   A   BOOK   AGENT. 

for,  while  I  was  carrying  on  my  accustomed  avoca- 
tion, I  was  also  spreading  a  knowledge  of  the  vir- 
tues and  usefulness  of  my  revered  grandfather ; 
and  this  afforded  me  no  small  satisfaction.  And 
this  is  one  reason,  among  others,  why  I  have  con- 
tinued in  the  sale  of  this  work  until  the  present 
time,  and  why  I  regard  it  with  more  affection  than 
any  work  I  have  ever  sold. 

The  same  evening  I  left  Mr.  Fessenden  I  took 
passage  on  board  a  river  packet  for  Memphis  ;  and 
about  five  o'clock  in  the  evening  she  cast  off  her 
moorings,  and  quietly  dropped  down  the  stream. 
It  was  dark  and  there  was  nothing  to  be  seen,  and 
nothing  to  detain  me  on  deck;  so  I  went  to  my 
state-room,  and  at  an  early  hour  retired  to  rest. 

In  due  time  and  without  incident  worthy  of  note 
I  arrived  at  Memphis.  My  trip  down  the  river  had 
been  very  pleasant,  and  I  had  enjoyed  it  very  much  ; 
but  a  period  was  now  put  to  my  enjoyment;  for 
when  we  rounded  to  the  landing  at  Memphis  it  was 
raining  with  violence,  and  the  mud  lay  in  the  streets 
apparently  of  an  interminable  depth.  In  view  of  this 
state  of  facts,  I  decided  to  make  my  stay  in  Mem- 
phis of  very  brief  duration.  I  had  intended  trying 
to  sell  some  books  there ;  but  the  weather  was 
such  as  evidently  to  render  hopeless  any  attempt  at 
canvassing,  and  of  course  I  must  forego  it  for  the 
present,  and  hope  for  better  weather  on  my  return. 

There  were  two  or  three  men  in  Memphis  whom 
it  was  necessary  for  me  to  see  in  connection  with 
the  business  which  had  originally  brought  me  to 


THE   LIFE   OF   A   BOOK    AGENT.  383 

the  South,  and  the  labor  of  wading  through  the 
mud  and  rain  to  hunt  them  up  was  all  I  cared  about 
attempting  ;  but  from  that  it  would  not  do  to  shrink. 
Besides  I  had  encountered  these  adversaries  before 
and  had  learned  the  very  important  fact  that  I  was 
neither  sugar  nor  salt,  and  that  there  was  not  the 
least  danger  of  my  melting  away.  .  Accordingly 
armed  with  a  formidable  cotton  umbrella,  and  a 
pair  of  stout  brogans,  I  plunged  into  the  apparently 
endless  and  bottomless  sea  of  mud  before  me,  and 
bravely  breasting  its  waves  in  due  time  found  the 
parties  of  whom  I  was  in  search.  My  interviews 
with  every  one  of  them  were  in  the  highest  degree 
satisfactory  ;  and  it  was  with  no  little  elation  of 
spirits  that  I  announced  to  myself  that  my  business 
was  completed,  and  took  the  cars  for  Atlanta,  the 
next  step  in  my  journey,  and  where  I  hoped  to 
complete  the  evidence  which  was  to  put  me  in  pos- 
session of  my  deceased  brother's  estates. 

As  we  rolled  onward  toward  Atlanta,  through  a 
region  of  country  every  foot  of  which  had  been  the 
scene  of  the  desolating  operations  of  hostile  armies, 
how  did  my  heart  throb  with  anguish  as  I  gazed 
upon  the  almost  entire  destruction  of  that  once 
lovely  land !  For  miles  upon  *  miles  the  country 
was  destitute  of  fences,  and,  in  many  instances,  of 
houses,  while  the  very  humblest  forms  of  vegeta- 
tion seemed  trodden  out  of  existence,  and  even  out 
of  sight,  under  the  hoofs  of  animals  and  the  feet  of 
thousands  of  armed  men ;  acres  upon  acres  of  ground 
which  had  once  borne  magnificent  crops  of  corn,  and 


384  THE   LIFE    OF    A    BOOK    AGENT. 

cotton,  and  tobacco,  and  wheat,  now  wearied  and 
pained  the  eye  by  their  broad  stretch  of  lifeless 
brown,  unrelieved  by  the  least  display  of  green ; 
the  long  lines  of  trenches  and  rifle-pits  told  eloquent 
stories  of  hours  of  toil  expended  for  the  sole  pur- 
pose of  more  effectually  destroying  our  fellow-men  ; 
the  little  mounds  of  earth,  which  here  and  there 
marked  the  landscape  in  every  direction,  spoke 
eloquently  of  some  brave  soul  who,  clad  either  in 
the  blue  or  the  gray,  had  offered  up  his  life  upon 
the  altar  of  a  cause  which,  to  him,  was  holy  and 
just ;  while  occasionally  a  thicker  and  more  numer- 
ous collection  of  these  tell-tale  heaps  of  earth  would 
speak  of  the  mortal  and  breathless  struggle  in 
which  those  who  now  rested  there  so  quietly,  had 
once  manfully  and  bravely  borne  their  part.  What 
mattered  it  to  me,  as  I  gazed  upon  these  speaking 
monuments  of  brave  men's  prowess,  whether  they 
held  the  corses  of  our  own  brave  soldier  boys,  or 
whether  those  lonely  resting-places  were  filled  with 
the  remains  of  the  misguided,  but  no  less  brave, 
soldiers  of  the  Confederacy  ?  They  were  alike  the 
resting-places  of  brave  and  true  men,  each  one  of 
whom  had  some  friends  in  some  far-off  land,  per- 
chance, to  mourn  their  loss,  and  shed  the  silent  tear 
of  sorrow  o'er  their  untimely  decease  ;  and  though 
I  had  no  sympathy  with  the  cause  which  had  called 
these  brave  men  to  arms,  still  I  could  respect  their 
manhood,  their  devotion  to  their  convictions  of 
right,  and  could  drop  the  sympathetic  tear  over 
their  violent  and  bloody  decease.  I  could  not  but 


THE   LIFE    OF   A    BOOK    AGENT.  385 

think  that  somewhere  in  the  broad,  sunny  lands  of 
which  those  around  us  were  a  part,  I  had  an  only 
and  dearly  loved  brother,  whose  head  was  pillowed 
until  the  last  great  day  upon  just  such  a  lowly  bed 
as  these ;  who  had  fallen  in  the  same  cause,  which 
I  believed  to  be  unjust  and  unholy  ;  who  had  fallen 
as  the  brave  men  around  us  had  fallen  in  the  dis- 
charge of  what  he  deemed  to  be  his  duty  ;  and  my 
heart  was  incapable  of  entertaining  any  feeling  of 
bitterness  toward  any  of  the  fallen  braves  amid 
whose  tombs  our  train  was  wending  its  way. 

From  these  reflections  my  mind  naturally  wan- 
dered away  to  the  fate  of  the  unfortunate  people 
who  had  inhabited  this  country  before  the  breaking 
out  of  the  rebellion.  Although  a  long  time  had 
elapsed  since  the  close  of  hostilities,  the  country, 
in  this  particular,  as  well  as  in  all  others,  still  bore 
traces  of  the  fearful  struggle  through  which  it  had 
passed,  and  in  the  plainest  manner  indicated  the 
fearful  character  of  the  punishment  which  their 
folly  and  madness  had  brought  upon  this  miserable 
people.  It  was  true,  it  was  the  fruit  of  their  own 
crime  and  folly,  and  for  which  they  ought  to  suf- 
fer ;  but  surely  their  punishment  had  been  equal 
to  the  magnitude  of  their  offense,  and  ought  to 
fully  satisfy  the  most  clamorous  demands  of  ven- 
geance. Surely  their  ruined,  desolated  farms ; 
their  property  destroyed,  or  taken  for  military  pur- 
poses, without  the  possibility  of  their  receiving  any 
compensation  ;  their  once  happy  homes,  from  which 
they  had  been  compelled  to  flee  to  avoid  the  dead- 

.25 


386  THE   LIFE   OF   A    BOOK    AGENT. 

ly  hail-storm  of  bullets  which  swept  over  them, 
and  which  were  too  often  mere  masses  of  black- 
ened and  shapeless  ruins ;  the  accumulations  of 
years  of  toil  and  privation  swept  away  forever ; 
and,  above  all,  the  sable  weeds  of  mourning, 
which  enveloped  every  Southern  face,  were  most 
powerful  evidences  of  the  severity  of  the  punish- 
ment meted  out  to  them,  and  ought,  as  far  as 
human  vengeance  can  go,  to  fully  compensate  for 
the  wrong  they  had  done.  It  is  true  that  the  suf- 
fering caused  by  the  war  had  not  fallen  upon  this 
section  alone  ;  it  is  true  that  by  the  firesides  of  the 
North,  places  had  been  made  vacant,  and  many  a 
brave  son,  noble  brother,  and  kind,  indulgent  hus- 
band and  father  had  gone  forth  from  loving  friends 
never  to  return ;  that  woe  and  misery  had  there, 
too,  as  well  as  in  the  South,  been  sown  broadcast 
to  gratify  the  most  gigantic  and  criminal  ambition 
of  the  age ;  but  all  the  other  sad  results  of  the 
conflict  had  been  visited  upon  the  South  alone.  I 
am  no  apologist  for  the  crime  which  the  leaders  of 
the  rebellion  inaugurated  against  the  most  bene- 
ficent and  freest  government  upon  which  the  sun 
ever  shone,  and  upon  them  I  would  willingly  see 
visited  the  most  direful  punishment  which  the 
human  imagination  could  devise ;  but  for  their 
poor,  deluded,  misguided  followers,  the  evidences 
of  suffering  which  I  saw  on  all  sides  awakened  in 
my  breast  naught  but  feelings  of  the  most  intense 
pity. 

There  was  another  reflection  which  occurred  to 


THE    LIFE    OF    A 'BOOK    AGENT.  387 

my  mind,  in  connection  with  this  subject,  and 
which  seems  to  me  to  have  no  little  bearing  on  the 
determination  of  the  policy  with  which  the  two 
sections  ought  to  be  regarded  in  contemplating  the 
results  of  the  contest.  While  both  sections  alike 
mourn  the  loss  of  thousands  of  fallen  braves, 
the  sorrow  of  the  loyalists  is  tempered  with  their 
well-earned  and  well-merited  thought  of  glorious 
victory  won,  and  they  can  exult  in  the  proud  con- 
sciousness that  the  friends  whom  they  mourn  fell 
in  defense  of  a  holy  and  noble  cause,  and  by  their 
deaths  aided  in  the  achievement  of  the  grand  tri- 
umph of  right  and  justice.  But  to  the  South  none 
of  the  consolations  flowing  from  this  reflection  are 
vouchsafed.  Their  cup  of  sorrow  is  unmixed  by 
any  pleasing  thoughts,  save  the  recollection  of  the 
personal  bravery  of  the  fallen,  while  its  bitterness 
is  enhanced  by  the  deep  humiliation  of  utter  de- 
feat, and  the  fact  that  the  valuable  lives  so  lost 
were  sacrificed  in  an  unjust  and  iniquitous  cause. 
If  anything  can  add  poignancy  to  the  sorrows  they 
must  endure,  it  must  be  this  very  reflection. 

But  while  my  mind  was  thus  dwelling  upon  the 
results  of  the  war,  the  cars  were  bearing  me  on- 
ward to  Atlanta,  and  at  last  the  Gate  City  of  the 
South  burst  upon  our  view ;  but,  alas !  it  was  no 
longer  the  lovely,  flourishing  city  it  was  when  I 
last  beheld  it.  Then  long  rows  of  magnificent 
structures  lined  all  its  principal  streets,  while  its 
suburbs  were  filled  with  magnificent  private  resi- 
dences, adorned  with  all  that  wealth  could  pur- 


388  THE   LIFE   OF   A   BOOK   AGENT. 

chase,  or  that  taste  of  man  could  devise  to  gratify 
the  senses,  or  enhance  the  peace  and  happiness 
which  there  reigned  supreme.  Now,  the  entire 
business  part  of  the  city  was  a  mass  of  shapeless 
and  unsighty  ruins.  Whole  blocks,  which  had 
once  stood  erect,  tall  and  stately,  and  were  the 
pride,  not  only  of  their  owners,  but  of  every  deni- 
zen of  the  city,  were  now  mere  heaps  of  rubbish, 
bricks  and  mortar ;  while,  in  many  instances,  the 
palatial  residences  and  magnificent  grounds  of  the 
suburbs  had,  by  their  occupancy  as  quarters  for 
troops,  been  shorn  of  all  their  original  beauty,  and 
reduced  to  a  state  of  chaos  and  confusion,  from 
which  it  would  take  years  to  resuscitate  them, 
even  if  they  could  be  restored  to  anything  like 
their  former  condition.  I  had  read  in  the  public 
journals  the  accounts  of  the  hard  fate  which  befell 
the  city  of  Atlanta  when,  at  the  end  of  a  campaign 
almost  unparalleled  in  history,  she  fell  into  the 
hands  of  Sherman  and  his  victorious  legions  ;  but 
I  was  utterly  unprepared  for  the  sad  scene  of  deso- 
lation which  was  presented  to  my  view.  Although 
I  knew  that  such  was  the  fate  of  war,  and  that,  the 
curse  had  been  brought  upon  the  city  by  her  own 
people  and  friends,  still  I  could  not  but  feel  sad- 
dened in  my  inmost  heart  when  I  came  to  fully 
realize  the  ruin  that  had  been  wrought;  and  I 
covered  my  eyes  to  shut  out  the  hateful  sight,  while 
the  hot,  scalding  tears  of  agony  bedewed  my  cheeks. 


CHAPTER  XXIY. 

SUCH  was  rny  return  to  Atlanta,  after  an  absence 
of  nearly  five  years.  What  a  blight  had  fallen 
upon  the  place  during  that  time !  And  yet  it  was 
no  worse  than  the  blight  which  had  fallen  upon 
my  own  life  during  the  same  time.  The  contrast 
between  Atlanta,  as  it  was  then,  and  as  I  now  be- 
held it,  was  no  greater  than  the  contrast  between 
my  situation  then  and  what  it  now  was.  Then  I 
fondly  believed  myself  the  wife  of  a  noble  and  hon- 
orable man,  and  with  every  prospect  of  a  long  and 
happy  life  before  me,  in  the  enjoyment  of  which  I 
should  cease  to  remember  the  sorrows  of  my  child- 
hood. Since  then  I  had  learned  that  I  was  not  his 
wife ;  had  separated  from  him,  and  united  my 
fortunes  with  those  of  a  man  who  had  proved  to  be 
only  less  base  than  he — had  finally  parted  with 
him  forever,  and  was  now  alone  in  the  world,  with 
no  one  upon  whom  I  could  lean  for  support  under 
any  circumstances.  Then  I  had  a  dearly  loved 
brother,  on  whom,  in  times  of  sorest  distress,  I 
could  rely  for  relief  and  assistance — now  my 
brother  was  gone,  and  I  stood  alone,  the  last  of  my 
family,  and  comparatively  helpless.  Is  it  strange 
that,  as  this  terrible  view  of  my  situation  rushed 
across  my  mind,  my  heart  sunk  within  me,  and  I 
again  almost  wished  that  I  might  lie  down,  too, 

(  389  ) 


390  THE   LIFE   OF   A   BOOK   AGENT. 

and  die,  and  be  at  rest  forever  ?  But  why  indulge 
these  gloomy  reflections  ?  I  had  work  to  do,  and 
would  strive  in  the  midst  of  my  labors  to  forget  all 
my  sorrows.  But  this  was  easier  said  than  done, 
for'at  every  step  I  took  there  was  something  to  re- 
mind me  of  the  past,  and  of  my  bitter  loneliness. 

I  went  out  to  the  Lake  mansion.  It  was  like  all 
the  rest,  in  ruins.  Some  portions  of  the  walls  were 
standing,  but  that  was  all — the  grounds,  the  shrub- 
bery, the  fences,  the  grove  which  had  once  been 
the  pride  and  admiration  of  the  surrounding 
country — all  were  gone,  and  only  sufficient  traces 
remained  to  indicate  what  had  once  been  there  and 
remind  me  of  their  former  beauty.  At  the  negro- 
quarters  I  found  some  of  the  old  servants  of  the 
plantation,  who  were  living  there  and  cultivating 
some  of  the  ground,  under  the  protection  of  the 
Freedman's  Bureau.  Tom  anl  Silvie  were  both 
dead,  they  told  me,  while  Caroline  had  married, 
and  was  living  at  some  distance  from  there,  with 
a  little  family  of  children  growing  up  around  her. 

Sick  at  heart,  I  turned  away,  and  went  in  search 
of  the  graves  of  my  loved  ones.  There  they  lay, 
side  by  side,  but  so  neglected  and  overgrown  with 
weeds  that  it  was  with  difficulty  I  could  find  them. 
There  were  the  graves  of  mother,  Henry,  Kate, 
baby  May,  and  my  own  little  darling,  and  another 
had  been  added  since  I  was  there  last.  A  plain 
board  stood  at  its  head,  with  simply  the  words 
General  Frank  Hamilton  on  it.  This,  then,  was 
the  last  resting-place  of  the  last  survivor  of  my 


THE   LIFE    OF    A    BOOK    AGENT.  391 

family.  As  I  stood  thus  alone  by  the  graves  of 
rny  departed  friends,  my  mind  wandered  back  to 
the  time  when  I  stood  thus  by  the  side  of  my 
father's  tomb,  in  the  far  off  city  of  Philadelphia, 
a,nd  a  sense  of  my  utter  loneliness  so  overcame  me 
that  I  burst  into  tears,  and,  offering  up  a  prayer  to 
rny  Heavenly  Father  for  protection,  I  turned  and 
left  the  ground.  As  I  wandered  back  to  the  city, 
I  thought  how  much  pleasure  I  had  anticipated  in 
the  early  days  of  my  marriage  with  Frank  Ford, 
in  paying  the  visit  I  had  just  made.  I  had  then 
contemplated  this  visit  with  him  at  my  side,  while 
his  tears  would  mingle  with  mine  in  silent  respect 
to  the  memory  of  my  departed  kinsmen.  There, 
too,  by  the  side  of  those  graves,  I  would  put  him 
in  possession  of  all  the  facts  in  my  past  history,  of 
which  he  had  hitherto  been  kept  in  ignorance,  and 
would  implore  his  pardon  for  the  partial  deception 
I  had  practiced  upon  him ;  but,  like  all  my  other 
castles  of  air,  this  had  now  fallen  about  my  ears, 
and  was  lying  in  ruins  at  my  feet.  Such  had  ever 
been  my  life — one  constant  scene  of  disappoint- 
ments and  sorrows. 

I  returned  to  the  city  and  put  up  at  the  only 
hotel  there  was  in  the  place,  where  I  passed  the' 
night  almost  in  tears,  for  sleep  I  could  not.  My 
mind  was  too  much  occupied  with  gloomy  reminis- 
cences of  the  past,  and  dark  forebodings  of  the 
future,  to  allow  me  to  rest,  and  with  the  first  flush 
of  the  dawn  I  arose  from  my  uneasy  couch  to  at- 
tempt the  work  which  had  brought  me  there,  in- 


392  THE   LIFE    OF    A    BOOK    AGENT. 

tending  to  transact  it  as  speedily  as  possible,  and. 
bid  adieu  forever  to  a  place  so  fraught  with  sor- 
rowful memories  as  was  now  the  city  of  Atlanta. 
How  I  fretted  until  the  arrival  of  business  hours 
would  enable  me  to  visit  the  public  offices,  and 
attend  to  the  matter  which  I  hoped  would  put  me 
in  possession  of  wealth,  and  enable  me  to  give  up 
the  life  of  a  book  agent  forever.  I  may  now  whis- 
per in  the  ear  of  my  reader,  however,  that  were  I 
in  possession  of  the  most  boundless  wealth,  I  do 
not  think  I  would  give  up  the  avocation  of  buying 
and  selling  books  as  an  agent.  I  would  still  fol- 
low the  business,  not  as  a  means  of  making  money 
simply,  though,  as  has  already  appeared  in  these 
pages,  it  is  very  profitable,  but  from  pure  love  of 
it.  This  is  in  confidence,  and  is  the  result  of. my 
present  views — then  everything  was  distasteful  to 
me,  and  my  only  thought  was  to  get  the  means 
which  my  brother  had  provided  for  my  support ; 
get  my  divorce  from  Ford,  then  finish  this  history 
of  my  life;  arid,  after  placing  a  copy  of  it  in  his 
hands,  retire  from  the  public  gaze  forever.  Yes,  I 
would  recover  my  property  ;  would  get  Carrie,  and 
adopt  some  little  orphan  boy  for  a  playmate  for 
her ;  would  let  Frank  Ford  know  what  he  had  lost 
by  his  cruelty  and  treachery  to  me ;  and  would 
then,  in  seclusion,  and  in  the  society  alone  of  my 
dear  children,  find  consolation  for  all  the  sorrows 
I  had  endured.  These  were,  then,  my  plans ;  but 
I  am  bound  to  confess  that,  to  a  great  extent,  they 
have  thus  far  failed  of  being  realized. 


THE    LIFE    OF    A    BOOK    AGENT.  393 

The  mystic  hour  of  nine — standard  hour  with 
men  who  are  elected  to  serve  the  will  of  the  people 
— having  at  length  arrived,  I  sallied  forth  to  see 
what  could  be  done  toward  the  fulfillment  of  my 
mission.  My  first  call  was  at  the  office  of  the 
Register  of  Deeds,  which  I  found  occupied  by  a 
very  polite  and  accommodating  gentleman.  The 
records  had,  fortunately,  escaped  the  storm  of  gen- 
eral destruction  which  had  swept  over  the  devoted ' 
city ;  and  we  were  soon  immersed  in  a  profound 
examination  of  their  pages.  We  soon  found  where 
Frank  had  made  over  all  his  property  to  me,  in 
the  event  of  his  decease.  This  was  the  first  step 
gained  in  the  investigation  ;  but  now  the  question 
arose,  what  was  the  present  condition  of  the  prop- 
erty thus  conveyed  ?  Was  it  in  such  a  condition 
that  it  could  be  identified,  and  a  tangible  claim  for 
its  restitution  be  presented  to  the  General  Govern- 
ment? Further  investigation  revealed  the  fact 
that  much  of  it  had  been  sold  for  taxes,  under  the 
authority  of  the  Confederate  Government — all  hud 
been  confiscated,  upon  the  suppression  of  the  re- 
bellion, and  there  seemed  little  prospect  of  recov- 
ering anything,  except  at  the  end  of  a  long  course 
of  expensive  litigation,  which  I  was  but  illy  pre- 
pared to  undertake.  My  heart  was  not  a  little 
dismayed  at  the  prospect  before  me ;  but,  never- 
theless, I  had  already  gone  too  far,  and  expended 
too  much  money,  to  think  of  shrinking  from  the 
contest  at  the  present  stage.  Accordingly  I  pro- 
cured from  the  recorder  duly  certified  copies  of 


394  THE   LIFE    OF    A    BOOK    AGENT. 

all  the  deeds  in  any  way  bearing  upon  my  proper- 
ty (or  that  which  I  claimed),  and  went  to  the  office 
of  an  attorney,  whom  he  recommended  as  the  best 
in  the  city,  designing  to  place  all  the  papers  in  his 
hands,  and  leave  him  to  pursue  his  own  judgment 
as  to  the  best  course  of  proceeding,  while  I  return- 
ed to  my  home  in  Indiana,  obtained  my  divorce, 
arid  supported  myself  at  my  business,  until  the 
final  issue  of  my  application  at  Washington. 

I  was  fortunate  in  securing  the  services  of  an  at- 
torney of  the  highest  degree  of  talent,  and  whose 
eminence  in  his  profession  was  a  sure  guarantee 
that  my  affairs  would  receive  the  most  prompt  and 
careful  attention  at  his  hands — none  other  than  the 
Hon.  F.  M.  Goodman.  He  at  once  undertook  my 
case,  and  assured  me  that  no  pains  or  trouble 
should  be  spared  to  bring  it  to  an  early  successful 
issue.  Satisfied  that  I  had  done  all  that  could  be 
done  to  insure  success,  I  decided  not  to  remain  any 
longer  in  Atlanta,  but  to  return,  at  once,  to  Indiana. 
I  hated  to  leave  the  place  without  making  any  ef- 
forts whatever  for  the  sale  of  my  book ;  but,  the 
truth  was,  that  every  thing  was  in  such  a  depressed 
condition  there  that  I  felt  sure  any  effort  of  mine 
would  be  vain.  There  was  no  money  in  the  country, 
and  without  that  "  root  of  all  evil,"  it  was  but  little 
use  for  me  to  take  any  names  for  the  book,  even  if 
the  people  would,  under  such  circumstances,  be 
likely  to  look  with  favor  upon  a  proposition  to 
subscribe.  Beside,  there  were  too  many  unpleasant 
memories  clustering  around  that  section  of  country 


THE    LIFE    OF    A    BOOK    AGENT.  395 

for  me  to  remain  there  any  longer  than  stern  ne- 
cessity demanded. 

Accordingly,  as*  soon  as  my  arrangements  with 
Mr.  Goodman  were  completed  to  my  satisfaction,  I 
settled  my  bill  at  the  hotel  and  took  the  first  train 
for  Chattanooga,  having  been  in  Atlanta  just  four 
days,  instead  of  four  weeks,  at  least,  as  I  had  in- 
tended when  leaving  Cincinnati. 

I  omitted  to  say,  in  its  proper  place,  that  I  had 
written  from  Memphis,  on  my  way  down,  to  a  son 
of  my  husband  in  Chicago  ;  to  which  letter,  how- 
ever, I  never  received  any  answer ;  thus  proving 
that  I  was  not  only  cast  off  by  my  husband,  but 
also  by  the  whole  family  ;  no  doubt  through  the 
influence  of  him  from  whom  I  had  a  right  to  ex- 
pect different  treatment.  But  the  only  effect  of 
this  neglect  was  to  strengthen  and  confirm  me  in 
the  resolution  to  sever  my  connection  with  them 
forever,  by  means  of  the  decree  of  divorce  for 
which  I  was  about  applying. 

From  Chattanooga  I  pursued  my  way  through 
Nashville  to  Louisville,  whence  I  went  by  mail- 
packet  to  Cincinnati,  only  stopping  at  each  place 
so  long  as  was  necessary  on  account  of  the  delay 
in  connection  of  trains  and  the  like.  I  reached 
Cincinnati  in  four  days  from  the  time  of  leaving 
Atlanta — having  only  been  absent  about  three 
weeks. 

I  called  at  once  upon  Mr.  Fessenden,  who  ex- 
pressed no  little  astonishment  at  seeing  me  back 
so  soon,  arid  still  more  when  I  informed  him  that  I 


396  THE   LIFE    OF   A    BOOK   AGENT. 

had  not  sold  a  single  copy  of  the  History  of  Free- 
masonry. I  did  not  tell  him  that  the  book  had 
not  been  once  offered  for  sale,  faut  told  him  that 
times  were  so  hard  there  that  nothing  could  be 
done,  and  that  I  had,  therefore,  decided  to  return 
to  a  more  promising  field.  He  asked  me  some- 
thing about  the  business  which  had  taken  me 
there,  but  I  evaded  any  direct  information  relative 
to  it,  and  only  told  him  that  in  the  present  con- 
fused state  of  affairs  there  it  was  impossible  to 
accomplish  any  thing  in  any  line  of  business. 

I  then  returned  to  the  subject  of  "  The  General 
History  of  Freemasonry,"  and  told  him  that,  as  I 
had  done  so  poorly  in  my  trip  to  the  South,  I 
thought  he  ought  to  give  me  a  chance  to  make  my- 
self whole  by  giving  me  an  opportunity  to  sell 
the  book  where  there  could  be  something  made  of 
it.  He  asked  me  where  I  would  like  to  work.  I 
told  him  I  would  like  the  entire  State  of  Indiana? 
and  the  counties  of  Southern  Michigan  along  the 
line  of  the  Michigan  Southern  &  Northern  Indi- 
ana Railroad.  He  replied,  with  a  smile,  that  my 
desires  were  very  moderate,  and  that  he  thought 
he  could  gratify  them,  adding,  with  a  slight  dash 
of  flattery,  that  he  knew  of  no  one  to  whom  he 
would  rather  entrust  this  district  than  to  myself. 
I  also  made  arrangements  with  him  to  canvass  the 
same  territory  for  u  The  History  of  Morgan's  Cav- 
alry," which  last,  however,  I  kept  but  a  short  time. 

My  business  in  Cincinnati  being  ended,  I  left 
that  city  the  next  morning,  for  Indianapolis,  to 


THE    LIFE    OF    A    BOOK    AGE^TT.      •  397 

devote  myself  once  more  to  my  chosen  avocation, 
and,  at  the  same  time,  attend  to  getting  my  di- 
vorce, after  which  I  would  be  free  to  change  my 
location,  or  do  anything  else,  at  my  own  pleasure. 
I  had  not  said  anything  to  any  one  about  the  mo- 
tive which  induced  my  visit  to  the  South,  nor,  in- 
deed, did  anybody  in  Indianapolis  know  that  my 
journey  had  been  extended  beyond  Memphis ; 
and  I  decided  not  to  enlighten  anybody  at  the 
present,  either  as  to  where  I  had  been,  or  as  to  my 
prospects  in  the  South.  Certainly,  it  was  nobody's 
business,  and  I  would  only  leave  them  to  suppose 
that  my  absence  had  been  caused  by  some  mat- 
ter in  connection  with  my  agency. 

In  due  time  I  arrived  in  Indianapolis,  and  went 
at  once  to  my  old  boarding-house,  at  No.  44  South 
Tennessee  street,  where  I  was  gladly  welcomed  by 
all  the  family.  In  pursuance  of  my  resolution, 
I  said  nothing  about  my  Southern  journey,  merely 
going  about  my  business  as  usual,  and  occasional- 
ly dropping  a  remark  about  the  condition  of  af- 
fairs in  Memphis,  in  order  to  convey  the  impres- 
sion that  that  city  had  been  my  stopping-place 
during  my  absence  from  home. 

In  the  meantime,  my  attorneys  had  commenced 
proceedings  for  my  divorce,  and,  Mr.  Ford  being  a 
non-resident  of  the  State,  it  was  necessary  to  ad- 
vertise the  pendency  of  the  suit  in  some  newspaper 
published  in  the  city.  This  was  rather  unpleasant, 
as  giving  too  much  publicity  to  a  matter  about 
which  I,  very  naturally,  desired  as  much  secrecy 


398  r  THE   LIFE    OF    A    BOOK    AGENT. 

as  possible  ;  but  there  was  no  help  for  it,  and  ac- 
cordingly, the  necessary  affidavit  was  filed,  and 
the  cause  duly  published  in  the  Weekly  Indiana 
State  Journal.  After  this  expose  of  one  of  my  ob- 
jects in  locating  at  Indianapolis,  it  was  with  fear 
and  trembling  that  I  attempted  to  do  anything  in 
the  way  of  canvassing.  It  seemed  to  me  that 
every  one  must  have  read  it,  that  they  would  know 
who  I  was,  and  would  make  unpleasant  comments 
about  it  whenever  I  applied  for  a  subscriber. 
Doubtless  my  fears  were  entirely  unfounded,  and 
that  not  one  persons  in  every  thousand  of  the  in- 
habitants of  Indianapolis  had  ever  seen  the  notice, 
or  would  know  to  whom  it  referred  ;  but  still  they 
existed,  and  they  finally  made  so  much  impression 
on  my  mind  as  to  induce  me  to  withdraw  almost 
entirely  from  active  canvassing  myself. 

But  as  I  had  not  yet  succeeded  in  getting  an 
agent  to  my  satisfaction,  I  had  to  keep  on  at  work 
myself,  and  with  my  Masonic  work  I  was  doing 
very  well.  In  three  days'  time  I  took  no  less  than 
twenty-five  subscribers  for  this  work,  the  mayor  of 
the  city  being  the  first  one  ;  and  to  his  kindness  I 
am  indebted  for  much  of  my  success  there.  I  was 
but  little  acquainted  with  the  Masonic  fraternity 
there,  but,  having  been  informed  that  Mayor  Gavin 
was  one,  I  had  asked  him  to  give  me  the  names  of 
men  whom  he  thought  would  be  likely  to  take  the 
book.  He  very  kindly  gave  me  a  long  list  of 
names,  and  in  no  one  instance  did  I  fail  to  sell  a 
copy  of  the  work  to  one  whose  name  he  had  given 


THE   LIFE    OF   A   BOOK    AGENT.  399 

me.  I  sold,  in  all,  about  one  hundred  copies 
of  this  work  in  Indianapolis ;  many  of  them  to 
members  of  the  Legislature,  which  happened  to  be 
in  session  at  the  time  I  was  canvassing  there. 

During  the  same  time  I  had  sold  only  five  or  six 
copies  of  the  "  History  of  Morgan's  Cavalry,"  and 
feeling  that  I  could  not  devote  sufficient  time  to 
this  work,  without  interfering  with  the  other,  I 
gave  it  up  entirely,  and  returned  to  Mr.  Fessenden 
several  copies  already  ordered.  In  fact,  I  was  so 
much  interested  in  the  sale  of  the  Masonic  history, 
and  was  succeeding  so  well  with  it,  that  I  really 
felt  but  little  inclination  to  work  for  anything  else. 

Having,  however,  learned  by  accident  that  all 
the  subscribers  to  "  The  Lost  Cause  "  had  not  been 
supplied,  and  that  there  was  some  dissatisfaction 
among  them  in  consequence,  I  called  upon  Mr. 
Barbour,  the  gentleman  in  whose  hands  I  had  left 
the  agency  for  that  work  upon  my  starting  South, 
took  from  him  his  list  of  subscribers,  revoked  his 
agency,  and  took  charge  of  the  sales  of  the  work 
in  person.  I  delivered  books  to  all  whose  names 
he  had  taken,  and  two  or  three  new  subscribers ; 
then,  finding  it  an  up-hill  business,  I  declined  to 
work  for  it  any  more,  and  finally  gave  up  canvass- 
ing for  everything  except  the  Masonic  history,  de- 
voting all  my  time  and  attention  to  that. 

With  this  work  I  was  doing  very  well,  indeed.  I 
had  now  been  at  work  for  it  only  about  a  month, 
and  as  the  reader  is  already  informed,  had  sold 
about  one  hundred  copies ;  but  Indianapolis  had 


400  THE   LIFE    OF   A    BOOK   AGENT. 

been  pretty  thoroughly  canvassed,  and  sales  were 
getting  very  dull.  I,  therefore,  decided  to  leave 
there  for  a  time,  and  try  my  fortune  a  little  farther 
north — at  Lafayette,  and  some  of  the  other  towns 
alone  the  line  of  the  Wabash  Valley  Railroad.  I 
also  decided  that  I  would  not  try  to  get  subscrib- 
ers for  any  thing  but  the  Masonic  history,  believing 
that  it  would  only  be  a  waste  of  time  to  do  so.  My 
experience  had  taught  me  that  the  agent  who  at- 
tempted to  canvass,  at  the  same  time,  for  five  or 
six  different  works,  was  not  likely  to  do  well  with 
any  of  them.  The  best  way,  in  my  judgment,  is 
to  select  some  good  work,  and  give  all  one's  efforts 
to  that,  to  the  utter  exclusion  of  everything  else. 
Of  course,  a  reasonable  degree  of  sagacity  must  be 
exercised  in  the  selection  of  a  suitable  work  with 
which  to  travel ;  but  if  one  attempts  to  work  for 
several  publications  at  the  same  time,  he  is 
likely,  by  a  division  of  his  exertions,  to  succeed 
in  making  a  failure  with  all. 

Having  decided  to  visit  Lafayette,  I  called  upon 
a  prominent  Mason  of  Indianapolis,  and  asked  him 
to  give  me  a  letter  of  introduction  to  somebody 
in  that  place,  who  would  be  likely  to  extend  to  me 
some  aid  in  introducing  the  work.  He  very  readi- 
ly and  cheerfully  complied  with  my  request,  and 
gave  me  letters  to  several  parties  there.  Perhaps 
there  is  no  more  suitable  opportunity  than  this,  to 
acknowledge  the  obligations  I  am  under  to  the 
Masonic  fraternity,  as  a  body,  for»the  kindness  and 
assistance  they  have  invariably  rendered  me  in 


THE   LIFE    OF   A   BOOK    AGENT.  401 

selling  this  work.  It  has  been  my  usual  custom, 
upon  visiting  any  place  for  the  first  time,  to  call 
upon  some  prominent  member,  or  members  of  the 
fraternity,  for  lists  of  names  to  guide  me  in  my 
canvassing  ;  and  again,  upon  leaving  for  another 
place,  to  ask  for  letters  of  introduction  to  some 
leading  member  of  the  Order  in  the  place  whither 
I  was  going ;  and  in  no  solitary  instance  has  com- 
pliance with  these  requests  been  refused  ;  and  the 
assistance  thus  rendered  has  been  invaluable  to 
me,  and  will  be  ever  most  gratefully  remembered  ; 
and  I  desire  here  to  return  my  heartfelt  thanks,  not 
only  to  each  and  every  one  of  the  members  of  that 
ancient  and  honorable  Order,  for  the  uniform  kind- 
ness and  courtesy  with  which  they  have  treated 
me,  but  especially  to  those  who  have  assisted  me 
in  the  manner  above  indicated.  May  their  kind- 
ness be  returned  to  them  a  thousand  fold. 

In  due  time  I  arrived  in  Lafayette,  and  at  once 
called  upon  one  of  the  gentlemen  to  whom  I  had 
received  a  letter  of  introduction.  He  treated  me 
with  the  kindness  which  has  always  marked  the 
conduct  of  the  fraternity  toward  me,  bought  a  book, 
and  introduced  me  to  several  other  gentlemen,  all 
of  whom  purchased  books.  I  sold  five  or  six  copies 
there,  and  having  thus  sown  seed  which  I  hoped 
would,  in  time,  bear  abundant  fruit,  I  decided  to 
leave  Lafayette,  a  short  time,  go  up  to  Delphi 
and  Logansport,  see  what  could  be  done  there,  and 
return  to  Lafayette  again  on  my  way  to  Indian- 
apolis. This  trip  was  the  poorest  which  ever  oc- 

26 


402  THE   LIFE    OF    A    BOOK    AGENT. 

curred  in  all  my  experience  as  a  book  agent.  I 
was  absent  some  three  days  from  Lafayette,  and 
did  not  sell  a  single  copy  of  the  work  during  the 
whole  time.  The  Masons,  in  all  the  places  visited 
by  me,  seemed  more  dead  than  alive — more  intent 
on  making  money  than  acquainting  themselves 
with  the  history  and  origin  of  their  order — more 
devoted  to  the  worship  of  Mammon  than  to  the 
cultivation  of  a  knowledge  of  the  science  of  which 
this  fraternity  claims  to  be  one  of  the  principal 
exponents.  There  was  among  them  a  state  of 
coldness  and  indifference  to  the  good  of  the  Order 
which  I  have  very  rarely  found.  May  they  arouse 
from  their  lethargy  in  time  to  prevent  their  ever- 
lasting dissolution  as  an  order. 

The  same  feeling  prevailed  to  a  considerable  ex- 
tent, though  in  not  quite  so  great  a  degree,  at  La- 
fayette ;  and  I  became  convinced  that,  for  the 
present,  at  least,  I  could  not  do  enough  there  to  pay 
expenses.  My  trip  had  already  cost  me  much 
more  than  the  profits  realized  from  it,  and,  under 
such  circumstances,  it  was  worse  than  folly  to  ex- 
tend my  stay  in  the  place.  I  therefore  packed  up 
my  "  traps "  and  returned  home,  fully  resolved 
never  to  canvass  along  the  line  of  the  Wabash 
Valley  Railroad,  or,  at  least,  until  there  was  some 
evidence  of  more  vitality  among  the  Masons  there. 


.      CHAPTER    XXV. 

UPON  my  return  to  Indianapolis,  I  decided  to 
change  my  plan  of  operations,  for  a  time.  I  had 
been  traveling  constantly  since  entering  upon  the 
duties  of  a  book  agent,  was  weary  and  somewhat 
worn  down,  and  needed  some  rest.  The  plan 
adopted,  for  a  time,  was  this — to  advertise  for 
agents  to  canvass  in  my  field,  while  I  would  sup- 
ply them  with  the  work,  as  a  sort  of  general  agent, 
and  would  take  a  class  in  my  old  occupation — that 
of  teaching  painting.  Accordingly,  I  resumed  the 
agency  of  two  or  three  works  which  I  had  discard- 
ed ;  obtained  one  or  two  others,  so  as  to  be  able  to 
supply  my  agents  with  any  thing  they  might  de- 
sire ;  obtained  a  suitable  room  in  which  to  receive 
my  pupils,  and  advertised  in  several  of  the  leading 
papers,  throughout  the  State,  for  agents.  I  also 
inserted  advertisements  for  pupils  in  all  the  pa- 
pers of  the  city,  and  commenced  reviewing  and 
furbishing  up  my  artistic  qualities. 

Applications  for  employment,  as  agents,  were 
soon  very  numerous,  and  in  a  few  weeks  I  had  no 
less  than  a  dozen  agents  at  work  for  me,  in  differ- 
ent parts  of  the  State.  The  works  with  which  they 
were  furnished  were  all  that  I  had  ever  canvassed 
for,  with  the  addition  of  a  most  beautiful  little 
book  for  the  juvenile  portion  of  the  community, 

(403) 


404  THE   LIFE    OF    A   BOOK    AGENT. 

entitled  "  The  Children's  Album."  I  do  not  think 
I  have  ever  known  a  work  more  interesting,  or 
more  beneficial,  to  be  put  in  the  hands  of  the  rising 
generation.  I  charge  the  publishers  nothing  for 
this  notice  of  their  work,  for  it  merits  all  and  more 
than  can  be  said  in  its  favor  by  so  poor  a  pen  as 
mine. 

While  making  and  perfecting  these  arrange- 
ments, the  other  branch  of  business  marked  out  for 
myself  had  not  been  neglected.  Applications  for 
admission  to  my  school  of  painting  had  poured  in 
upon  me,  and  my  class  was  soon  as  large  as  my 
rooms  would  allow  me  to  accommodate,  and  sever- 
al applicants  had  been  refused  admission  for  want 
of  room.  And  so  assiduously  had  I  practiced  my 
art  that  I  found  myself  qualified  to  impart  instruc- 
tion, not  only  to  their  entire  satisfaction,  but,  what 
was  much  better,  to  my  own.  And  thus  matters 
went  on  swimmingly,  and,  for  a  time,  I  succeeded 
better,  pecuniarily,  than  I  had  at  any  time  since 
starting  as  a  book  agent.  But  my  expenses  were 
very  heavy,  and  I  did  not  lay  up  money  very  fast. 
Aside  from  my  ordinary  expenses  of  every-day 
life,  the  extensive  litigation  I  was  conducting,  both 
at  Indianapolis  and  Atlanta,  was  a  constant  drain 
on  my  finances,  and  kept  me  at  rather  a  low  ebb. 
There  were  constant  applications  from  my  counsel 
for  money  for  some  purpose  or  other — now,  five 
dollars  to  pay  for  a  certified  copy  of  some  old  deed 
or  other;  then  ten  or  fifteen  dollars  to  pay  for 
taking  depositions  ;  again  ten  dollars  would  be 


THE   LIFE   OF    A    BOOK    AGENT.  405 

wanted  for  searching  some  record  at  Washington, 
and  so  it  went  on.  I  was  making  money  fast,  and, 
had  it  not  "been  for  these  constant  demands  upon 
my  purse,  could  have  accumulated  some  property, 
but  it  would  take  a  princely  income  to  stand  these 
prodigious  drains  upon  it.  But  I  looked  forward 
with  hope  to  the  time  when  it  would  all  be  at  an 
end,  and  the  money  I  was  now  forced  to  expend  for 
these  objects  would  be  saved  to  me,  when  better 
times  must  certainly  ensue. 

About  this  time  I  had  an  operation  performed 
on  my  left  eye,  which  had  been  affected  from  my 
birth.  It  turned  outwardly,  and,  aside  from  its 
disfiguring  effect  upon  my  countenance,  it  was,  at 
times,  a  source  of  considerable  annoyance  to  me, 
and  not  a  little  interfered  with  my  sight.  There 
was  a  professional  oculist  in  the  city,  by  the  name 
of  Dr.  Charles  Wall,  who  sustained  a  very  high 
name  in  his  profession,  and  who  had  published 
some  certificates  of  very  remarkable  cures  perform- 
ed under  his  treatment ;  and  I  had  myself  known 
of  several  very  bad  cases  of  "  cross  eyes  "  which 
he  had  treated  with  the  utmost  success.  I  made 
up  my  mind  to  apply  to  him  for  relief  from  my 
affliction,  and,  accordingly,  called  at  his  office  and 
asked  him  if  he  could  straighten  my  eye.  He  ex- 
amined it,  asked  me  some  questions  about  it,  and 
said  he  could  cure  it  by  performing  a  surgical 
operation  upon  it.  I  told  him,  if  it  was  to  be  oper- 
ated upon,  I  would  like  to  have  some  friend  pres- 
ent at  the  time,  and  he  replied  that  he  would  like 


406  THE   LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT. 

to  have  some  medical  gentleman  witness  the  oper- 
ation, and  that,  if  it  suited  me,  he  would  perform 
it  at  ten  o'clock  the  next  day.  I  told  him  that  Dr. 
Athon  and  Dr.  Barnes  were  friends  of  mine,  and 
that,  if  he  had  no  objections,  I  would  bring  them 
with  me  at  that  time ;  to  which  he  very  readily 
assented,  saying  it  was  just  what  he  would  have 
desired. 

At  the  appointed  time  the  next  morning,  Dr. 
Athon,  Dr.  Barnes  and  myself,  went  to  Dr.  Wall's 
office,  No.  21  West  Maryland  street,  and  I  took  my 
seat  in  the  operating  chair.  The  doctors  wanted 
me  to  take  chloroform,  or  some  other  anaesthetic 
agent ;  but  this  I  refused  to  do,  feeling  assured 
that  my  courage  and  nerve  were  sufficient  to  en- 
dure the  operation,  and  wishing  to  see  all  that  was 
done,  especially  as  I  was  myself  to  be  the  victim. 
Well,  I  had  my  own  way,  and  the  operation  was 
performed  while  I  was  in  my  natural  state ;  nor 
would  I  even  suffer  any  one  to  hold  my  hands  or 
head.  The  operation  was  short,  and  much  less 
painful  than  I  had  anticipated,  but  still  very  un- 
pleasant. 

,  I  immediately  returned  to  my  boarding-house, 
and,  for  half  an  hour  or  so,  experienced  no  uneasi- 
ness from  the  cutting  of  my  eye  :  then  suddenly 
began  a  sharp  pain  in  the  eye-ball,  which  contin- 
ued all  day  and  all  night,  and  gave  me  no  little 
alarm,  lest  it  should  involve  the  loss  of  sight  in 
that  eye.  When  I  arose  the  next  morning  and 
looked  in  the  glass,  I  found  that  quite  a  large  lump 


THE   LIFE   OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  407 

had  grown  upon  my  eye  where  he  had  cut  it ;  and, 
still  more  alarmed  than  ever,  I  hastened  as  early 
as  I  could  to  Dr.  Wall's  office.  He  smiled  at  my 
fears,  and  told  me  the  lump  would  all  disappear  in 
a  short  time  ;  that  it  was  but  the  natural  result  of 
the  operation,  and  need  give  me  no  uneasiness. 
He  gave  me  some  eye-water,  and  a  small  brush  to 
£pply  it  with,  and  I  went  away,  feeling  very  much 
relieved  ;  for  I  had  the  utmost  confidence  in  his 
skill  and  ability. 

As  I  shall  not  recur  to  this  subject  again,  I  may 
remark  here  that  my  expectations  of  benefit  from 
this  operation  have  been  but  partially  realized, 
and  that,  though  I  paid  Dr.  Wall  a  very  liberal 
fee  for  performing  the  operation,  my  eye  has 
really  received  but  very  little  benefit  from  it.  It 
is  better  than  when  I  went  to  him,  but  still  far 
from  perfect,  as  will  be  apparent  to  any  one  who 
will  examine  the  portrait  which  forms  the  frontis- 
piece of  this  work.  Still,  I  do  not  condemn  the 
doctor,  for  I  doubt  not,  he  is  well-skilled  in  dis- 
eases of  the  eye ;  though  in  my  own  case  his  suc- 
cess was  not  so  decided  as  I  hoped,  and  had  been 
led  by  him  to  expect. 

Finding  that  the  condition  of  my  eye  interfered 
somewhat  with  my  convenience  and  success  as  a 
teacher  of  painting,  I  concluded  to  give  up  my 
class  for  a  time,  and  resume  my  travels,  at  least 
until  my  eye  should  be  fully  recovered  from  the 
effects  of  the  recent  operation.  Before  setting  out, 
however,  I  wanted  to  learn  the  art  of  cutting 


408  THE   LIFE    OF   A    BOOK    AGENT. 

dresses  by  a  new  method,  and  connect  that  with 
my  book  agency,  believing  it  would  be  a  source  of 
considerable  profit  to  me.  I  accordingly  went  to  a 
Mrs.  S.  C.  Ewing,  and  applied  for  instruction  in 
the  coveted  art.  She  charged  twelve  dollars  for 
giving  lessons,  which  was  more  money  than  I 
really  knew  how  to  spare  ;  but  I  had  a  painting, 
worth  fifteen  dollars,  which  I  proposed  to  give  her 
for  my  course  of  instruction,  and  she  accepted  my 
offer.  The  art  was  very  easy  to  acquire,  and  in- 
one  day  I  could  cut  and  fit  dresses  by  this  mode 
as  well  as  Mrs.  Ewing  herself. 

With  my  books  and  some  charts,  I  then  started 
out,  not  doubting  I  should  do  well ;  but,  as  I  soon 
found,  and  as  the  reader  will  soon  see,  the  result 
did  not  equal  my  anticipations  ;  and  I  found  upon 
this  trip  another  illustration  of  the  truth  of  the 
proposition  I  advanced  some  time  since  :  that  the 
book  agent  whose  exertions  are  divided  among 
several  things,  is  not  likely  to  succeed  well  with 
anything. 

Upon  leaving  Indianapolis  I  went  at  once  to 
Lebanon,  the  county  seat  of  Boone  county.  It  was 
just  about  dark  when  I  arrived  there,  and,  of 
course,  nothing -could  be  done  that  night.  I  went 
to  the  Andrews  House  for  the  night,  wading 
through  mud  nearly  a  foot  deep  to  get  there,  for  it 
had  been  raining  several  days,  and  the  streets  were 
almost  impassable.  The  next  morning  I  went  to  a 
printing  office  and  engaged  one  hundred  small  cir- 
culars to  be  printed  and  distributed,  setting  forth 


THE  UFE  OF  A  BOOK  AGENT.         409 

the  value  of  my  new  system  of  cutting  dresses,  and 
went  out  to  canvass  for  "  The  History  of  Freema- 
sonry "  while  they  were  being  circulated,  for  I  had 
brought  ten  copies  of  the  work  with  me.  I  visited 
all  the  business  places  in  Lebanon,  during  the  fore- 
noon, and  succeeded  in  selling  three  copies  of  the 
book,  which,  I  think,  was  doing  very  well,  consid- 
ering the  size  of  the  town. 

By  this  time  my  advertisements  had  been  dis- 
tributed, arid,  after  eating  a  hearty  dinner,  I  set 
out  to  see  what  could  be  done  with  my  charts.  Of 
course,  my  calls  were  now  made  upon  the  ladies, 
at  their  houses,  instead  of  at  the  business  places. 
At  the  first  house  at  which  I  called,  the  following 
conversation  ensued  : 

"  Good  morning,  madam.  I  am  selling  charts 
for  a  new  mode  of  cutting  dresses — the  most  per- 
fect thing  of  the  kind  I  ever  saw — and  teaching 
the  use  of  them.  Would  you  like  to  learn  ?" 

"  Well,  I  don't  know  whether  it  would  be  of 
much  benefit  to  me  or  not.  I  generally  have  my 
dresses  cut  by  a  dressmaker." 

"  But,  by  the  use  of  this,  you  can  cut  and  fit 
your  own  dresses,  and  thus  save  trouble  and 
expense." 

"  There  are  so  many  humbugs,  now-a-days,  that 
one  hardly  knows  what  or  whom  to  trust ;  and  I 
believe  I  will  not  have  anything  to  do  with  it." 

"  But,  madam,  you  can  see  for  yourself  that  this 
is  no  humbug.  It  is  so  simple  and  plain  that  any 
one  can  understand  it,  and  so  certain  in  its  results 


410  THE   LIFE   OF   A    BOOK   AGENT. 

that  it  is  almost  impossible  to  make  a  mistake,  or 
have  an  ill-fitting  dress.  I  am  sure  you  would 
like  it." 

"  Well,"  said  she,  after  examining  it  some  time; 
"  I  do  like  its  appearance,  and  would  like  to  learn, 
but,  to  tell  the  truth,  I  have  not  got  the  money." 

"  Well,  madam,  I  shall  be  in  town  for  several 
days — it  may  be  for  a  week — and  if  you  will  board 
me  while  I  stay  here,  I  will  teach  you  the  art,  and 
furnish  you  with  a  chart." 

"  How  long  will  you  be  here  ?" 

"I  can  not  tell  exactly.  Until  I  have  canvassed 
the  whole  of  the  town.  It  may  be  two  or  three 
days,  or  it  may  be  a  week ;  though  probably  not 
so  long." 

"  Upon  those  terms  I  will  take  lessons.  You  can 
€ome  here  at  any  time  you  choose." 

I  at  once  sat  down,  gave  her  a  lesson,  and  ex- 
plained the  use  of  the  chart  to  her ;  then  sent  to 
the  Andrews  House  for  my  baggage,  and  again 
sec  out  upon  my  canvassing.  I  felt  very  well,  for 
I  had  made  a  beginning;  the  lady  whose  name  I 
had  obtained,  was  one  of  the  leaders  in  the  little 
social  circle  of  the  place,  and  I  felt  no  doubt  her 
influence  would  aid  me  in  the  prosecution  of  my 
work  ;  wand  the  result  showed  that  I  was  not  mis- 
taken. 

At  the  next  house  the  lady  was  very  cold  and 
distant ;  did  not  care  about  looking  at  my  charts, 
or  hearing  my  explanations  ;  but  as  soon  as  I  told 
her  that  Mrs.  Dr.  M'Cloud  (the  lady  with  whom  I 


THE   LIFE    OF    A    BOOK    AGENT.  411 

was  stopping)  was  learning  as  was  also  Mrs.  An- 
drews at  the  hotel,  her  whole  manner  changed,  and 
she  at  once  manifested  the  utmost  interest  in  it. 
She  finally  concluded  she  very  much  wanted  to 
learn,  but  would  not  subscribe  until  she  consulted 
her  husband,  who  would  not  be  at  home  until  tea- 
time.  Could  I  call  again  in  the  evening,  or  the 
next  morning  ?  Certainly  ;  I  would  call  the  next 
morning,  and  hoped  to  be  honored  with  her  patron- 
age. With  this  assurance  I  left  her,  receiving 
from  her  a  parting  injunction  to  call  the  next  day  ; 
and  I  may  remark  here,  that  this  injunction  was 
cheerfully  and  faithfully  obeyed,  and, that  I  added 
her  name  to  my  list  of  subscribers.  Such  is  the 
result  and  power  of  rank  and  fashion  !  Had  not 
Mrs.  Dr.  M'Cloud  become  a  subscriber,  this  lady 
would  not;  and,  doubtless,  the  same  remark  will 
apply  to  every  lady  whose  name  I  procured  in 
Lebanon.  Fashionable  society  in  Lebanon,  as 
elsewhere,  is  very  much  like  a  flock  of  sheep ; 
they  will  stand  huddled  together,  uncertain  what 
to  do,  until  some  one,  with  more  decision  than  the 
others,  makes  a  break  in  some  particular  direc- 
tion, when,  pell-mell,  away  go  the  whole  herd  fol- 
lowing closely  in  the  tracks  of  their  leader,  with- 
out the  least  regard  for  consequences.  This  grega- 
rious disposition  of  the  human  race  has  been  of 
immense  service  to  me  in  many  instances  beside 
the  one  above  mentioned. 

I  canvassed  the  remainder  of  the  day,  and  at 
night  had  four  ladies  engaged  to  learn  dress-cut- 


412  THE   LIFE   OF   A    BOOK   AGENT. 

ting,  beside  several  others  who,  like  my  friend 
above  mentioned,  wanted  to  consult  their  hus- 
bands about  the  matter  before  incurring  any  ex- 
pense ;  and  I  found  that,  in  every  instance  of  the 
kind,  the  promise  to  consult  "  husband "  was 
equivalent  to  a  promise  to  subscribe  ;  thus  proving 
to  my  mind  either  that  the  ladies  in  Lebanon  have 
very  kind  and  indulgent  husbands,  or  that  they 
have  the  art  of  governing  their  liege  lords  more 
skillfully  and  successfully  than  their  sisters  in 
some  other  parts  of  the  world  of  which  I  have 
some  knowledge. 

I  remained  in  Lebanon  about  a  week,  and  find- 
ing that  my  work  there  was  practically  done,  and 
that  no  more  money  was  to  be  made  there,  I  went 
to  Thorntown,  in  the  same  county.  I  had  done 
very  well  in  Lebanon,  but  was  destined  to  fare 
still  better  in  the  place  to  which  I  had  now  come, 
owing,  in  part,  to  the  spirit  of  rivalry  existing  be- 
tweeen  the  two  towns,  in  which  the  ladies  of  each 
bore  their  full  share  ;  for  no  sooner  did  I  exhibit 
to  the  ladies  of  Thorntown  the  list  of  names  I  had 
obtained  at  Lebanon,  than  they  at  once  said  Leb- 
anon should  not  go  ahead  of  them  in  anything 
pertaining  to  the  world  of  fashion,  and  I  soon  had 
all  I  could  do.  This  rivalry  seemed  very  foolish 
to  me,  but  as  long  as  I  was  reaping  the  benefits  of 
it,  I  was  not  disposed  to  utter  any  complaints,  or 
attempt  to  quell  it. 

I  remained  in  Thorntown  three  days,  sold  five 
copies  of  Masonic  history,  disposed  of  a  large 


THE   LIFE   OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  413 

number  of  charts,  and  instructed  several  ladies  in 
the  art  of  cutting  their  own  dresses,  when  I  left 
there  and  went  to  Attica.  Here  I  fared  the  poorest, 
for  some  time,  that  I  had  anywhere  on  my  present 
trip.  For  two  days  I  labored  faithfully  ;  but  could 
not  get  any  one  either  to  buy  a  book  or  to  patron- 
ize the  new  mode  of  cutting  dresses.  Meantime 
my  bill  at  the  Revere  House,  where  I  stopped,  was 
accumulating,  at  the  rate  of  three  dollars  a  day, 
while  I  was  earning  nothing  at  all ;  and  I  was  fast 
becoming  disheartened.  The  people  all  seemed  as 
poor  as  Job's  turkey,  or  as  stingy  as  a  miser,  I 
could  not  tell  which,  and  I  was  almost  tempted  to. 
give  up  in  despair  and  leave  the  place,  though  it 
was  very  much  against  both  inclination  and  prin- 
ciple to  give  up  without  doing  anything.  After 
reflecting  some  time  upon  the  matter,  I  concluded 
to  stay  one  day  longer,  visit  some  of  the  places  I 
had  visited  already,  and  make  one  more  effort  to 
penetrate  the  crust  in  which  they  had  intrenched 
themselves.  There  was  a  Mrs.  Rodgers,  who  lived 
in  a  fine  stone  house,  and  seemed  to  be  a  sort  of 
leader  among  the  ton,  and,  though  I  had  already 
called  upon  her  once,  I  determined  to  go  there 
again,  and  try  to  make  the  same  arrangement  with 
her  that  I  had  with  Mrs.  M'Cloud,  upon  going  to 
Lebanon.  I  could  not  afford  to  stay  there  any 
longer,  and  pay  three  dollars  a  day  for  my  board, 
while  doing  nothing ;  but  if  I  could  get  to  stay  a 
week  with  Mrs.  Rodgers,  and  pay  my  way  by 
giving  her  instruction  and  selling  her  a  chart,  I 


414  THE   LIFE    OF    A    BOOK    AGENT. 

could  afford  that.  Beside,  I  would  then  Tbe  able  to 
say  I  had  made  one  sale  in  the  great  city  of  Attica. 

Accordingly,  the  next  day  I  called,  for  the  second 
time,  upon  Mrs.  Rodgers,  at  the  stone  mansion. 
She  received  me  quite  coolly,  and  seemed,  for  a 
time,  very  much  disinclined  to  even  talk  about  re- 
ceiving instruction ;  but  I  persevered,  and  finally 
made  her  the  same  proposition  which  had  succeed- 
ed so  well  with  Mrs.  M'Cloud.  At  this  she  seemed 
to  relent  a  little,  and  we  finally  made  the  same  ar- 
rangement— I  was  to  board  with  her  during  my 
stay  there,  be  it  longer  or  shorter,  and,  in  return, 
was  to  teach  her  the  art,  and  furnish  her  with  a 
chart.  In  pursuance  of  this  arrangement,  my  bag- 
gage was  removed  to  her  house  that  very  morning ; 
and  I  went  to  work,  with  renewed  zeal,  feeling  that 
the  crust  was  now  penetrated,  and  that  I  might 
hope  for  some  degree  of  success. 

And  I  was  not  disappointed.  The  gregarious 
nature  of  fashionable  society,  as  at  Lebanon,  was 
my  very  good  friend.  I  told  every  lady  upon  whom 
I  called  that  Mrs.  Rodgers  was  learning  of  me — a 
furore  was  created  upon  the  subject,  and  in  two 
days  I  had  all  the  applicants  for  instruction  that 
could  possibly  be  attended  to  by  working  early 
and  late.  I  was  more  than  gratified — I  was  de- 
lighted at  the  result  of  my  tactics — and  had  learn- 
ed that,  to  succeed  anywhere,  it  was  only  necessa- 
ry to  get  some  leader  of  fashion  interested  in  my 
work.  Such  is  the  influence  and  importance  which 
attaches  to  a  single  name  ;  and  I  determined  that, 


THE   LIFE   OF   A   BOOK    AGENT.  415 

hereafter,  wherever  I  might  go  to  work,  I  would 
adopt  the  same  plan,  which  had  succeeded  so  well 
here.  If  by  its  use  I  could  make  sales  in  the  town 
of  Attica,  surely  I  need  have  no  misgivings  about 
trying  it  anywhere  else.  Anything  which  would 
break  through  the  crust  there,  would  penetrate 
any  shell,  however  old  or  firmly  formed. 

I  remained  in  Attica  a  little  over  a  week,  and, 
upon  leaving  the  place,  found  that  I  had  made 
more  money  than  at  Lebanon  and  Thorntown  both, 
notwithstanding  the  discouraging  prospects  of  the 
first  two  days.  So  much  for  society  being  like  a 
flock  of  sheep. 

From  Attica  I  went  to  Danville,  Illinois,  and  at 
once  entered  upon  a  very  good  course  of  business, 
having  had  much  less  trouble  in  effecting  a  start 
there  than  at  any  other  place  visited  on  my  pres- 
ent journey — -the  people  there  seeming  much  more 
inclined  to  patronize  a  traveling  agent  than  in  In- 
diana. They  seemed  less  inclined  to  suspect  the 
honesty  and  motives  of  a  stranger  than  the  Hoo- 
siers,  and  to  realize  more  readily  the  value  of  the 
articles  I  was  offering  for  sale. 

But  my  stay  there  was  destined  to  be  of  short 
duration.  Just  in  the  midst  of  my  career  of  pros- 
perity, a  letter  arrived  from  my  attorneys,  inform- 
ing me  that  my  presence  was  very  urgently  and 
imperatively  necessary  in  Indianapolis,  in  connec- 
tion with  my  suit  for  a  divorce.  Of  course  it  was 
very  unpleasant  to  leave  my  present  location  while 
business  was  so  flourishing;  but  the  affair  at  In- 


416  THE    LIFE   OF   A    BOOK    AGENT. 

dianapolis  was  of  paramount  importance,  and  such 
a  summons  must  not  be  neglected;  and,  accord- 
ingly, I  packed  up  my  things,  left  my  business 
there  in  the  hands  of  an  agent  who  had  been  ap- 
pointed and  fully  instructed  by  me,  and  hastened 
homeward  by  the  most  direct  and  expeditious 
route.  Upon  reaching  Indianapolis,  I  found,  how- 
ever, that  my  presence  might  just  as  well  have 
been  dispensed  with  as  not,  had  it  only  been  known 
in  time ;  for,  owing  to  an  unexpected  decision  of 
the  Court,  we  would  be  compelled  to  postpone  the 
case  until  another  term.  My  counsel  were  not  to 
blame  for  this  delay,  for  it  was  a  matter  which 
they  could  not  foresee,  but  it  was  none  the  less  a 
most  bitter  disappointment  to  me,  for  I  had  count- 
ed upon  closing  up  that  affair  at  the  present  time, 
and  then  I  would  be  free  to  return  to  the  South, 
and  attend  closely  to  the  prosecution  of  my  claim 
for  the  restitution  of  my  brother's  property.  This 
I  did  not  wish  to  do  so  long  as  affairs  were  in  such 
a  shape  that  Frank  Ford  could  claim  any  part  of 
the  property  which  I  might  recover ;  and  hence  the 
delay  was  very  annoying  to  me,  beside  involving 
considerable  expense,  which  I  was  but  illy  able  to 
afford.  But  there  was  no  help  for  it,  and  nothing 
for  me  to  do  save  to  go  to  work  again  to  raise  the 
funds  necessary  to  meet  these  demands  upon  my 
purse. 

And  these  demands  had  recently  been  increased 
by  my  own  action.  The  reader  will  remember  that 
Carrie  was  with  a  relative  of  Captain  Lake's,  in 


THE   LIFE   OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  417 

New  Orleans,  whither  he  had  sent  her  to  be  raised 
and  educated.  I  had  not  seen  her  for  a  long  time, 
and  my  heart  yearned  to  clasp  the  little  darling  to 
my  bosom  once  more.  She  was  all  I  had  to  live 
for,  or  to  love ;  and  my  business  had  prospered  so 
as  to  enable  me  to  support  her  by  my  own  exer- 
tions, and,  accordingly,  I  sent  for  her.  The  friends 
with  whom  she  was  staying  were  very  much  op- 
posed to  her  coming,  but  my  claim  upon  her  was 
stronger  than  theirs.  She  wanted  to  come  to 
"mamma,"  and  they  finally  yielded,  and  sent  her 
to  me.  She  arrived  in  safety,  and  the  fond  mother 
who  has  been  for  a  long  time  separated  from  a 
dearly-loved  child  can  imagine  the  pleasure  with 
which  I  once  more  held  in  my  arms  the  darling 
little  one  who,  though  no  relative  to  me,  had  still 
become  so  dear  to  me  as  though  of  my  own  flesh 
and  blood. 

Besides  Carrie,  I  had  another  little,  helpless  being 
depending  upon  me  for  support.  I  have  already 
mentioned  my  intention  to  adopt  a  little  boy  as  a 
playmate  for  Carrie.  Some  time  had  elapsed  since 
that  resolution  was  formed,  and  I  had  met  with 
no  opportunity  to  obtain  a  child  whose  appear- 
ance pleased  me.  But,  visiting  one  day  the  county 
asylum  for  the  poor,  I  saw  just  the  boy  I  wanted. 
He  was  an  orphan,  with  no  friends  to  care  for  him  ; 
his  father  had  been  a  brave  soldier  in  defense  of 
his  country,  in  the  hour  of  peril,  and  had  died  in 
the  battle  of  Five  Forks,  just  as  final  victory  was 
perching  upon  the  National  Banner  ;  his  mother,  a 

27 


418  THE   LIFE    OF   A    BOOK    AGENT. 

frail,  delicate  woman,  had  survived  the  shock  of 
her  husband's  violent  death  but  a  few  weeks,  and 
he  was  left  alone  in  this  cold,  wide,  unfriendly 
world.  He  was  just  about  Carrie's  age,  about  five 
years;  while  his  light,  curly  hair,  deep,  earnest, 
blue  eyes,  and  finely  molded  features,  sufficiently 
resembled  hers  to  warrant  me  in  calling  them 
brother  and  sister.  I  accordingly  took  him  from 
the  asylum,  and  by  order  of  the  Court  of  Common 
Pleas  of  Marion  County,  formally  adopted  him  as 
my  own  child,  and  presented  him  to  Carrie  as  her 
little  brother.  She  had  still  some  recollection  of 
the  brothers  she  had  lost,  and  her  little  heart  was 
delighted  beyond  measure  at  the  restoration  of  one 
of  them  to  her.  They  are  as  happy  together  as 
it  is  possible  for  children  to  be,  and  my  heart 
throbs  with  all  a  mother's  pride  as  I  gaze  upon  my 
beauties  ;  for  though  they  are  no  earthly  relation 
to  me,  they  are  as  dear  to  me  as  they  could  possi- 
bly be,  were  they  of  my  own  flesh  and  blood. 

But,  of  course,  I  could  not  support  them  in  idle- 
ness, and  I  must  at  once  go  to  work  to  provide  the 
means  for  their  sustenance  and  education.  My 
first  care  was  to  find  a  good  boarding-school  for 
children,  at  which  I  could  be  certain  they  would 
be  properly  cared  for,  and  receive  such  attention 
and  education  as  was  necessary  and  suitable  for 
children  of  that  age.  After  some  trouble  I  found 
a  location  which  I  thought  possessed  all  the  re- 
quirements which  my  jealous  care  of  their  mental 
and  moral  necessities  demanded,  and  arrangements 


"THE   LIFE   OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  419 

were  soon  made  for  their  reception  by  the  matron 
of  the  establishment.  And  it  aifords  me  pleasure 
to  say  here  that  it  would  have  been  simply  im- 
possible that  a  selection  of  a  location  for  my 
darlings  could  have  been  more  fortunate ;  for  the 
lady,  in  whose  charge  they  still  remain,  combines 
within  herself  all  the  Clements  necessary  to  render 
their  stay  with  her  both  pleasant  and  profitable  to 
them.  Of  large  and  extended  experience  in  the 
management  of  children ;  tender  and  kind,  but 
firm  and  prudent  in  her  government ;  she  brings  to 
the  discharge  of  the  important  duties  of  her  posi- 
tion a  Christian  consciousness  of  the  weighty 
responsibilities  devolving  upon  her,  and  a  devout, 
prayerful  determination  to  discharge  those  respon- 
sibilities in  the  wisest  and  most  beneficial  manner 
for  the  interest  of  the  little  ones  under  her  care. 
Under  these  circumstances,  how  could  they  be 
otherwise  than  happy  and  properly  cared  for,  or 
how  could  they  be  better  situated,  so  long  as  it  is 
necessary  for  them  to  be  deprived  of  a  mother's 
care  ?  And,  indeed,  I  am  not  sure  but  they  are 

better  off  with  Mrs. than  they  would  be  with 

me. 

Having  concluded  this  arrangement  to  my  satis- 
faction, I  decided  to  visit  northern  Indiana,  and, 
perhaps,  some  parts  of  Illinois,  and  canvass  for 
my  Masonic  history.  I  had  had  sufficient  experi- 
ence in  trying  to  work  for  two  or  three  publica- 
tions, or  other  articles,  at  one  time,  and  my  mind 
was  fully  made  up  never  to  be  guilty  of  that  folly 


420  THE   LIFE   OF   A   BOOK   AGENT. 

again.  So  long  as  I  continued  to  travel  and  can- 
vass as  an  agent,  my  attention  should  not  be 
divided  between  a  half  dozen  different  objects,  and 
be  thus  prevented  from  doing  justice  to  any  of 
them  or  to  myself.  I  could  canvass  for  a  set  of 
books  by  any  author  if  published  by  one  firm  and 
they  would  not  conflict  with  each  other.  But  to 
take  books  by  different  authors  and  work  for  more 
than  one  firm  at  once,  I  will  not  do  so  again,  for  I 
cannot  do  justice  to  either  by  so  doing. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

MY  present  destination  was  La  Porte,  Indiana, 
where  I  had  been  informed  the  Masonic  fraternity 
were  quite  numerous,  and  very  active,  and  where 
I  hoped  to  sell  a  large  number  of  books.  Before 
starting,  however,  I  called  upon  William  Hacker, 
Esq.,  Secretary  of  the  Grand  Lodge  of  the  State, 
and  he  very  kindly  gave  me  a  letter  recommend- 
ing the  work  in  very  flattering  terir>s,  and  also 
gave  me  letters  of  introduction  to  several  prominent 
members  of  the  fraternity  there.  Armed  with 
these  documents,  and  provided  with  a  policy  of 
insurance  against  the  accidents  of  travel,  I  once 
more  committed  myself  to  the  tender  mercies  of 
the  Louisville,  New  Albany  &  Chicago  Railroad 
Company,  and  in  due  time,  without  any  incidents 
worthy  of  special  note,  reached  the  very  pleasant 
town  foj;  which  I  had  set  out. 

Upon  reaching  La  Porte,  my  first  care  was  to 
secure  a  good  and  suitable  boarding-place,  during 
iny  stay  there.  I  was  fortunate  enough  to  find  a 
good  room,  and  the  best  of  accommodations  in  a 
house  kept  by  Mr.  C.  D.  Church  (lately  a  lieuten- 
ant in  the  Union  army),  at  the  corner  of  Jackson 
and  Prairie  streets,  but  a  short  distance  from  the 
main  business  part  of  the  city,  and  at  once  made 

(421) 


422  THE   LIFE   OF   A   BOOK   AGENT. 

arrangements  with  the  gentlemanly  proprietor  for 
remaining  .there  so  long  as  I  was  in  La  Porte. 

I  next  called  upon  Mr.  E.  G.  Hamilton,  to  whom 
I  had  a  letter  of  introduction,  and  had  a  long  con- 
versation with  him  about  the  Masonic  fraternity, 
and  the  prospects  of  success  there.  I  found  Mr. 
Hamilton  a  fine,  portly  gentleman,  rather  below 
the  medium  height,  somewhat  bald,  very  affable 
and  polite,  but  with  a  peculiar  nasal  twang  or 
whine  in  his  voice,  to  listen  to  which  tried  my 
risibilities  sorely,  and  tempted  me  several  times 
to  overstep  the  bounds  of  the  politeness  which 
he  was  so  continually  exemplifying  before  me — 
not  from  any  want  of  respect  for  him,  but  because 
his  manner  was  simply  amusing  to  me.  No  one 
could  be  kinder  to  me  than  he  was,  and,  from 
the  bottom  of  my  heart  I  thank  him  therefor.  In- 
deed, the  fraternity  in  and  about  La  Porte  are  all 
entitled  to  and  receive  my  heartiest  thanks  for 
favors  received  at  their  hands. 

Mr.  Hamilton  informed  me  that  there  were  two 
lodges  in  the  city,  with  an  aggregate  membership 
of  about  one  hundred  and  forty ;  that  both  lodges 
were  in  a  flourishing  condition,  and  rapidly  in 
creasing  in  numbers ;  and  that  the  interest  in  the 
welfare  of  the  Order  had  never  before  been  as  high, 
in  La  Porte,  as  at  the  present  time.  Through  his 
instrumentality  I  formed  the  acquaintance  of  sev- 
eral Masons  of  great  prominence,  and  whose  virtues 
and  devotion  to  the  craft  have  already  given  them 
high  positions  in  the  Masonic  world ;  among  whom 


THE   LIFE   OF   A   BOOK    AGENT.  423 

may  be  mentioned  P.  D.  G.  M.  John  B.  Fravel ;  Dr. 
G.  M.  Dakin,  W.  M.,  of  Excelsior  Lodge ;  P.  G. 
Winn,  W.  M.,  of  La  Porte  Lodge  ;  E.  G.  McCollum, 
Esq.,  R.  A.  Hews,  Esq.,  and  many  others  whose 
names  it  were  useless  to  enumerate.  Mr.  Hamilton 
himself  is  one  of  the  most  ardent  disciples  of  Ma- 
sonry I  have  ever  met,  and,  though  of  but  little 
more  than  two  years  standing  in  the  Order,  has  al- 
ready penetrated  deeper  into  its  arena  than  many 
a  man  who  has  spent  a  long  life  in  connection 
with  the  mystic  brotherhood. 

He  gave  me  quite  a  list  of  names  of  men  whom  he 
thought  would  be  likely  to  subscribe  for  the  work, 
and  I  set  out  upon  my  labors,  meeting,  in  almost 
every  instance,  with  the  most  gratifying  success. 
"Very  few,  indeed,  were  the  Masons  in  La  Porte, 
whom  I  asked  in  vain  to  purchase  a  work  which 
so  well  portrayed  the  origin  and  principles  of  their 
order.  They  are  live  Masons  there,  and  every- 
thing which  tends  to  elucidate  the  benefits  of  their 
institution,  and  its  claim  to  the  confidence  of  the 
world,  they  gladly  welcome. 

Of  course,  here,  as  elsewhere,  there  are  excep- 
tions to  this  general  rule,  one  of  which  I  must  be 
permitted  to  mention.  In  the  office  of  a  friend, 
who  was  furnishing  me  a  more  extended  list  of 
names  than  Mr.  Hamilton  had  done,  I  one  day 
met  and  was  introduced  to  a  Mr.  Walker — "  Elder 
Walker,"  I  think  my  friend  called  him.  This  pre- 
fix, at  any  rate,  he  was  entitled  to,  having  been, 
at  one  time  engaged  in  the  work  of  the  ministry, 


424  THE   LIFE   OF   A   BOOK   AGENT. 

though  now,  I  believe,  not  laboring  in  that  field. 
He  was  a  stout,  wiry  old  man,  with  white  hair,  and 
a  complexion  of  such  floridity  that,  but  for  his 
well-known  character  of  sterling  morality,  and  his 
intense  hatred  of  drunkenness  in  all  its  forms,  he 
might  be  almost  suspected  of  having,  at  some  time 
or  other,  tampered  too  much  with  "  the  worm  of 
the  still."  His  portly,  rotund  person,  indicative  of 
good  living,  terminated  in  a  pair  of  pedal  extremi- 
ties of  extraordinary  size,  which  were  inclosed  in 
most  hideously-squeaking  cowhide  boots  ;  while  a 
massive,  square  head  was  connected  to  the  upper 
extremity  of  the  trunk  by  a  short,  thick  neck, 
which  looked  as  though  it  might  safely  bid  defi- 
ance to  the  hangman's  rope,  even  if  the  Elder 
should  ever  be  brought  to  test  its  qualities — an 
event  which  seems  exceedingly  improbable.  His 
form  was  very  erect,  his  movements  quick  and 
nervous,  and  an  air  of  the  most  supreme  satisfac- 
tion with  himself  and  the  rest  of  the  world  per- 
vaded every  feature.  He  was  one  of  those  men 
who  constantly  annoy  you  by  assenting,  in  the- 
inost  gracious  manner,  to  everything  you  say,  and, 
at  the  same  time,  remove  all  pretext  for  anger  by 
their  ready  compliance,  and  against  whom  the 
shafts  of  argument  or  sarcasm  are  as  harmless,  and 
glide  off  as  easily  as  water  poured  from  a  tin  dip- 
per upon  the  well-mailed  back  of  a  duck ;  and,  to 
crown  all,  he  enjoys  among  his  large  circle  of  ac- 
quaintances, by  whom  he  is  sincerely  respected., 


THE    LIFE    OF    A   BOOK    AGENT.  425 

the  reputation  of  being  just  the  least  bit  of  a 
"  bore." 

"  There,"  said  my  friend,  after  tne  ceremony  of 
introduction  had  been  performed,  and  the  requisite 
bows  had  been  made,  "  is  a  subject  for  your  art." 

"  Y-e-e-s,"  chimed  in  the  Elder,  "  I  am  a  very 
proper  subject  for  the  machinations  of  your  art. 
What  is  it?" 

"lam  canvassing  for  'The  General  History  of 
Freemasonry  in  Europe,'  and  would  like  to  sell 
you  a  copy." 

" '  The  General  History  of  Freemasonry ! '  Well, 
really,  that  must  be  a  very  fine  thing,  and  a  work 
which  ought  to  be  in  the  hands  of  every  Mason  in 
the  country,  especially  of  those  who  are  just  begin- 
ning to  tread  the  thorny  road  which  leads  to  the 
flowery  repose  of  Masonic  peace  and  happiness." 

I  was  quite  startled  by  this  somewhat  extraordi- 
nary poetical  display,  but  my  friend  seemed  to 
take  it  as  a  matter  of  course,  and  I  returned  to  the 
charge. 

"  The  work  is  highly  recommended  by  prominent 
Masons  in  all  parts  of  the  country,  and,  among 
others,  by  William  Hacker,  Grand  Secretaiy  of 
the  Grand  Lodge  of  the  State." 

"  It  is  ?  Why,  it  must  be  a  splendid  work  t 
Brother  Hacker  is  a  good  man,  and  would  recom- 
mend none  but  a  work  of  sterling  merit  to  the  con- 
fidence of  the  brotherhood,  to  whose  service  he  has 
earnestly  and  consistently  devoted  the  best  portion 


426  THE   LIFE   OF   A   BOOK   AGENT. 

of  a  long  and  well-spent  life.  And  lie  really  recom- 
mends the  book,  does  he  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir,  I  have  a  letter  in  his  own  hand- writ- 
ing, recommending  it  in  the  highest  terms." 

"  I  want  to  know !  So  you  know  Brother  Hack- 
er? He  is  a  splendid  man." 

"  Yes,  sir,  I  am  acquainted  with  him." 

"You  are?  And  he  has  recommended  this  work 
in  a  letter  composed  by  his  own  mighty  mind,  and 
indited  by  his  own  hand  ? " 

"  I  have  said  so  sir." 

"  Yes,  yes ;  I  know  you  have.  Have  you  the 
letter  with  you? " 

"  It  is  in  my  trunk,  at  my  boarding-house.  I 
can  show  it  if  necessary." 

"  Yes.     Hum.     Where  do  you  board  ?  " 

"At  Mr.  Church's." 

"  What !     Lieutenant  Church." 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Why !  he  is  a  good  man.  I  guess  he  keeps  a 
good  boarding-house,  and  ministers  to  the  necessi- 
ties of  the  weary,  hungry,  and  way-worn  traveler  in 
the  most  approved  manner.  I  never  stopped  at  his 
house ;  but  have  always  heard  that  character 
ascribed  to  him  by  his  patrons  and  admirers, 
whose  name  is  legion." 

"  Yes,  he  keeps  a  very  good  house.  But  let  us 
talk  about  the  book." 

"Certainly.  Such  a  work  as  that;  from  the 
pen,  doubtless,  of  one  of  the  most  eminent  authors 
and  philologists  the  world  has  ever  produced,  and 


THE   LIFE    OF   A    BOOK    AGENT.  427 

recommended  by  a  man  of  such  gigantic  intellect, 
such  sterling  integrity,  and  such  unquestioned  de- 
votion to  the  good  of  Freemasonry,  as  Brother 
William  Hacker,  Grand  Secretary  of  the  Grand 
Lodge  of  the  State  of  Indiana,  is  worthy  of 
being  the  theme  of  conversation  wherever  civ- 
ilized language  prevails,  as  long  as  the  sun  shall 

roll  his  ceaseless  rounds.  Why  Brother ," 

turning  to  my  friend,  "  you  ought  to  purchase 
a  copy  of  this  most  invaluable  work,  and  place 
it  among  the  most  cherished  volumes  of  your 
family  library,  there  to  remain,  and  be  read 
and  admired  by  your  children  and  your  children's 
children,  down  to  the  seventieth  generation." 

"  But,"  said  I,  laughing  in  spite  of  myself,  at 
this  rhapsody,  "he  has  already  bought  a  copy, 
and  now  I  want  to  sell  you  one." 

"  He  has !  Well,  he  has  done  just  right.  No 
man,  in  his  situation,  can  afford  to  be  without 
it." 

"  Then,  sir,  I  hope  you  will  take  one." 

"  I  must  take  time  to  consider  the  subject, 
madam.  Men  very  often  get  themselves  into  al- 
most inextricable  difficulties  by  acting  from  im- 
pulse and  without  proper  reflection.  But,  in  the 
first  place,  I  must  premise  that  my  situation  and 
that  of  my  friend  here  is  vastly  different.  It  is 
unnecessary  that  I  should  enlarge  upon  the  points 
of  difference  between  our  respective  positions — 
they  are  apparent  at  a  glance.  But  I  will  consider 
of  the  subject,  and  advise  you  of  my  conclusions." 


428  THE   LIFE   OF   A    BOOK   AGENT. 

I  saw  that  it  was  useless  to  urge  the  subject 
further,  and  made  him  no  answer,  and  he  soon 
after  withdrew.  I  was  not  a  little  amused,  as  well 
as  somewhat  disgusted,  at  the  result  of  this  inter- 
view ;  but  my  friend  laughed  heartily  at  my  dis- 
comfiture, saying  it  was  no  more  than  he  antici- 
pated;  that  he  was  very  sure  "  the  Elder"  could 
not  be  induced  to  subscribe  ;  and  that  he  had  in- 
troduced him  merely  for  the  purpose  of  getting  a 
good  joke  on  me.  I  thanked  him  for  his  kindness 
(?),  and  promised  him  I  would  be  even  with  him 
some  day ;  and  thus  the  matter  ended. 

I  canvassed  in  La  Porte  about  a  week,  and  sold 
some  sixty  copies  of  the  work  there,  being  the  best 
week's  work  I  had  yet  done  since  I  became  a  book 
agent.  I  also  visited  several  little  towns  through- 
out the  county,  and  sold  quite  a  number  of  works 
there.  My  trip,  thus  far,  had  been  very  profitable, 
and  I  was,  in  consequence,  very  much  elated  in 
spirits.  Surely,  at  the  rate  at  which  I  was  making 
money,  I  should  have  no  difficulty  in  providing  for 
my  two  little  ones  ;  and  they  were  all  I  had  to  care 
for  in  the  world.  If  God  would  mercifully  spare 
my  life,  and  protect  me  in  health  and  strength,  I 
had  no  fears  but  I  could  raise  them  comfortably, 
and  in  a  manner  that  would  render  them  a  credit, 
not  only  to  me,  but  to  themselves. 

But  my  work  in  La  Porte  was  done,  and  it  was 
necessary  for  me  to  seek  other  fields.  I  very  much 
hated  to  leave  this  place,  for  I  had  made  some 
warm  friends  there — friends  who  will  dwell  in  my 


THE   LIFE    OF    A    BOOK    AGENT.  429 

memory,  and  whose  kindness  will  not  be  forgotten, 
so  long  as  my  life  is  spared  and  reason  remains  an 
inmate  of  my  soul — but  necessity  demanded  it,  and 
it  is  an  old  adage  that  "necessity  knows  no  law.'' 
Accordingly,  I  procured  from  my  friends  letters  of 
introduction  to  several  of  the  prominent  Masons  of 
South  Bend,  and  started  for  that  point,  where  I 
arrived  about  seven  o'clock  in  the  evening,  and  re- 
tired to  rest  for  the  night,  without  learning  much 
about  the  town. 

The  next  morning  I  arose  early,  and  took  a  walk 
before  breakfast,  in  order  u  to  spy  out  the  land," 
and  decide  upon  my  chances  for  success  there.  At 
first  sight  I  did  not  like  the  appearance  of  the 
place  much,  and  was  almost  tempted  to  go  on 
without  trying  to  do  anything  there.  There  were 
scarcely  any  sidewalks  in  the  town,  and  what 
there  were  were  in  a  sad  state  of  dilapidation  ; 
the  weather  had  been  rainy  for  some  time,  and  the 
streets  were  in  anything  but  a  pleasant  condition 
for  pedestrian  feats  ;  many  of  the  business  houses 
had  an  old,  tumble-down  appearance,  and  alto- 
gether the  place  was  not,  at  first  view,  calculated 
to  inspire  any  great  love  in  the  mind  of  a  stranger. 
But  I  remembered  that  I  had  done  very  well  in 
places  of  no  more  promising  appearance  than  this, 
and  I  decided  to  try  to  do  something  ;  but,  at  the 
same  time  made  up  my  mind  to  recommend  to  the 
Mayor  and  Council  that  they  do  something  to  im- 
prove the  condition  of  their  streets  and  sidewalks, 
and  to  suggest  at  the  same  time,  that  their  place 


430  THE   LIFE    OF   A    BOOK    AGENT. 

would  appear  much  more  attractive  in  the  eyes  of 
strangers  if  this  recommendation  were  complied 
with. 

Having  decided  to  remain  and  try  my  fortune 
here  for  a  short  time,  I  called  upon  several  of  the 
parties  to  whom  I  had  letters  of  introduction,  de- 
livered my  letters  and  introduced  my  work.  All 
seemed  much  pleased  with  it,  and  my  success  was 
such  as  not  to  cause  the  least  regret  that  I  had 
decided  to  remain  there.  The  Order  seemed  to  be 
in  a  very  healthy,  flourishing  condition  there,  and 
to  be  composed  of  men  who  had  its  real  good  at 
heart,  and  were  more  interested  in  perfecting 
themselves  in  a  knowledge  of  its  mysteries  than 
in  merely  increasing  its  membership.  Among 
such  men  my  success  could  not  be  other  than  most 
gratifying,  arid  I  am  happy  to  record  the  fact  that, 
in  the  four  days  which  I  spent  there,  I  sold  no  less 
than  thirty-one  copies  of  my  favorite  work.  Surely, 
a  most  auspicious  result  in  a  town  of  such  unprom- 
ising appearance  as,  at  first  view,  to  almost 
discourage  even  me,  in  spite  of  my  extensive  ex- 
perience. 

From  South  Bend  I  went  to  Mishawaka,  only 
four  miles  further  east,  and  found  it  a  very  pleas- 
ant place — indeed,  to  my  notion,  a  more  pleasant 
place  than  South  Bend,  though  the  latter  is  the 
larger  town,  and  is  the  county  seat  of  the  county. 
There  seemed  to  me  to  be  much  more  life  and  ani- 
mation in  Mishawaka,  and  more  business  done 
than  in  South  Bend,  considering, the  size  of  the  two 


THE   LIFE   OF   A   BOOK    AGENT.  431 

places ;  but  it  might  be  that  it  was  owing  in  part 
to  the  more  favorably  auspices  under  which  I  saw 
Mishawaka.  The  weather  was  magnificent  while 
I  was  there,  and  the  whole  town  was  clad  in  its 
holiday  attire,  while  South  Bend  was  in  mud  and 
sorrow  when  I  saw  her  last. 

I  canvassed  Mishawaka  in  three  days,  selling 
something  over  a  score  of  books,  but,  although 
they  had  been  ordered  sometime  before,  they  had 
not  yet  come,  and,  of  course  until  they  arrived, 
they  could  not  be  delivered  ;  so  there  was  nothing 
for  it  but  to  wait  with  what  patience  I  could  com- 
mand under  the  circumstances.  For  a  week  I 
remained  there  idle,  and  my  anxiety  to  be  at  work 
mounted  to  almost  fever  heat.  But  there  was  no 
good  in  fretting.  The  books  would  not  come  any 
sooner  for  it,  and  the  only  thing  in  my  power  was 
to  amuse  myself  in  the  best  manner  possible,  and 
thus  pass  away  the  time  while  waiting.  I  was 
boarding  in  the  family  of  a  Mr.  Taylor,  a  very 
nice,  pleasant  place,  and  both  Mr.  Taylor  and  his 
wife  were  very  fond  of  fishing.  They  had  often 
invited  me  to  join  them  in  their  piscatorial  expedi- 
tions along  the  banks  of  the  silvery  St.  Joseph,  but 
I  had  as  often  declined. 

But  at  length  time  grew  so  heavy  on  my  hands 
that  one  "  bright  day  in  the  morning,"  I  decided 
to  accept  their  oft-repeated  invitation  and  accom- 
pany them.  Armed  with  proper  tackle,  rods, 
lines,  hooks,  bait,  etc.,  and  an  immense  basket  in 
which  to  deposit  the  finny  spoils  of  the  deep  (river), 


432  THE   LIFE   OF   A   BOOK    AGENT. 

we  wended  our  way  to  a  pleasant  nook,  where  Mr. 
Taylor  assured  us  we  would  find  plenty  of  fish. 
I  could  not  bait  my  hook  myself,  but  Mr.  Taylor 
affixed  the  tempting  morsel,  while  Mrs.  Taylor 
performed  the  same  feat  for  herself,  and  we  cast  in 
our  lines,  nothing  doubting  (at  least  I  did  not) 
that  we  should  soon  be  blest  with  as  great  an 
abundance  of  fish  as  were  the  Apostles  when,  at 
the  command  of  our  Saviour,  they  cast  their  net 
upon  the  right  side  of  the  ship.  Soon  after  cast- 
ing in  her  line  Mrs.  Taylor  drew  it  out  again  to 
the  surface,  and  with  a  flourish  and  a  "  whish," 
landed  a  fine  large  sunfish  upon  the  bank  just 
back  of  where  we  sat.  Again  she  put  in  her  hook, 
and  again  drew  it  forth,  and  this  time  a  noble 
perch  was  dangling  at  the  end  of  her  line.  Again 
and  again  was  this  scene  repeated — now  sunfish, 
now  perch,  now  something  else — until  she  had 
caguht  five  or  six  fine  fellows,  and  her  husband 
nearly  as  many  more ;  but  I  had  not  had  a  solitary 
nibble.  I  was  getting  out  of  all  manner  of  patience 
when,  suddenly,  I  felt  the  short,  quick  jerk  which 
indicated  that  a  fish  was  after  my  bait.  Trem- 
bling with  eager  anxiety,  I  drew  it  to  the  surface, 
when,  low  !  a  gigantic  water-dog  made  his  appear- 
ance, securely  hooked  to  my  line ;  but  how  to  get 
him  off  was  the  question.  It  is  no  trouble  for  me 
to  eat  fish  when  they  are  nicely  prepared  for  the 
table,  but  the  idea  of  taking  hold  of  a  live  one — 
ugh  !  it  makes  me  shudder  even  to  this  day.  Several 
times  I  tried  to  muster  sufficient  courage  to  accom- 


THE   LIFE    OF   A    BOOK    AGENT.  433 

plisli  this  feat,  but  each  time  his  flopping  and 
floundering  drove  me  away  demoralized,  until  at 
last  I  was  fain  to  give  it  up.  Mr.  Taylor  then 
came  to  my  assistance,  and  removed  the  monster, 
baited  my  hook  again,  and  again  I  committed  my 
line  to  the  pearly  deep.  Another  season  of 
anxious  waiting  and  watching,  another  nibble  at 
my  line,  another  sharp  pull,  and  this  time  I 
brought  out  a  large  catfish.  I  tried  to  take  him 
off,  but  he  looked  so  much  worse  than  the  other, 
with  his  huge  gogle  eyes,  immense  mouth,  and 
wicked-looking  horns,  that  he  frightened  me  more 
than  the  other ;  arid  again  Mr.  Taylor  was  com- 
pelled to  come  to  my  assistance.  Once  more  I 
tried  my  luck,  and  this  time  another  water-dog 
was  the  result  of  some  half  hour's  patient  watch- 
ing. 

By  this  time  the  sun  was  getting  high  in  the 
heavens  and  it  was  time  for  us  to  return  home ;  so  we 
proceeded  to  enumerate  the  results  of  the  morning's 
sport,  or  rather  labor,  for  such  it  was  to  me.  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Taylor  had  caught  some  twenty- three  fish, 
every  one  of  which  was  fit  for  use  ;  while  I  had  suc- 
ceeded in  landing  three,  not  one  of  which  was  of  the 
least  possible  value  for  any  purpose.  I  was  not  a 
little  disgusted  at  my  luck,  or  rather  at  my  want  of  it, 
and  made  up  my  mind  that  nature  never  designed 
me  for  a  fisherman,  and  that  I  could  succeed  much 
better  as  a  book  agent.  As  I  said  before,  I  can  do 
something  in  the  way  of  eating  fish  when  they  are 

28 


434  THE  LIFE   OF   A   BOOK    AGENT. 

properly  prepared  and  on  the  table,  but  this  is  the 
only  part  of  a  fisherman's  life  I  am  fit  for. 

But  I  had  already  wasted  too  much  time  in  this 
place,  and  decided  to  stay  here  no  longer,  but 
would  go  and  canvass  Elkhart  and  Goshen,  and 
then  return  here  and  deliver  my  books.  I  had 
ordered  books  to  be  sent  to  Goshen  at  the  same 
time  that  I  had  ordered  those  at  Mishawaka,  and, 
doubtless  they  would  be  there  by  the  time  I  had 
finished  canvassing,  and  I  could  then  deliver  all  at 
once,  and  thus  close  up  my  business  in  this  part 
of  the  country.  I  therefore  packed  up  my  "  traps," 
bade  adieu  to  the  kind  friends  who  had  tried  so 
hard  to  initiate  me  into  the  mysteries  of  the  sport 
of  fishing,  but  with  such  poor  success,  and  took 
the  cars  for  Elkhart,  where  I  arrived  in  due  time 
without  incident. 

Upon  reaching  this  place,  I  went  to  work  with  a 
vigor  which  was  intended  to  make  up  for  all  the 
time  lost  by  the  neglect  of  my  publisher,  with 
whom  I  was  already  quite  out  of  patience  for  his 
dilatoriness ;  but  my  patience  was  yet  to  be  more 
sorely  tried  from  this  source. 

My  efforts  here  were  very  successful,  and  in  a 
week  no  less  than  forty  names  of  subscribers  had 
been  added  to  my  already  magnificent  list  of  sub- 
scribers for  the  Masonic  history.  I  felt  proud  of 
my  week's  work,  and  thought  that  what  had  been 
done  was  deserving  of  compliment.  Surely  the 
sale  of  forty  copies  of  a  single  work,  in  a  little 
town  like  Elkhart,  was  something  to  be  proud  of, 


THE   LIFE    OF    A    BOOK   AGENT.  435 

and  I  venture  the  assertion,  that  not  five  canvass- 
ing agents  in  the  United  States  can  show  a  better 
report  for  the  same  time  and  under  the  same  cir- 
cumstances ;  but  it  shows  what  energy  and  deter- 
mination, when  properly  applied,  can  accomplish, 
even  under  unfavorable  circumstances. 

From  Elkhart  I  went  to  Goshen,  nothing  doubt- 
ing that  I  should  find  my  books  there,  as  more 
than  two  weeks  had  now  elapsed  since  they  had 
been  ordered ;  but  again  I  was  doomed  to  disap- 
pointment, for,  to  my  inquiry  for  books,  the  ex- 
press agent  politely  replied,  fl  There  is  nothing 
here  for  Mrs.  M.  Ford."  What  could  it  mean? 
Surely  my  orders  had  been  received  by  the  pub- 
lishers, and  why  there  should  be  so  much  want  of 
promptness  in  filling  them  was  entirely  beyond  my 
comprehension.  I  would  write  to  Mr.  Fessen4en, 
give  him  a  piece  of  my  mind,  and  learn  what  he 
meant  by  thus  keeping  me  idle  through  his  neg- 
lect, and,  in  the  meantime,  would  canvass  Goshen 
and  the  surrounding  country,  and  by  that  time  my 
answer,  as  well  as  the  books,  would  most  likely 
arrive.  Accordingly  I  indited  a  letter,  "  short, 
sharp  and  decisive "  in  its  terms,  mailed  it,  and 
went  to  work. 

For  about  a  week  I  labored  faithfully,  and  with 
very  fair  success,  having  sold  twenty-eight  or 
twenty-nine  copies  to  the  citizens  of  Goshen.  I 
had  called  almost  daily,  during  the  time,  at  the 
express  office,  and  each  day,  "  Still  not  arrived," 
had  been  the  answer  of  the  agent  to  my  look  of 


436  THE   LIFE    OF    A    BOOK    AGENT. 

inquiry.  I  was  becoming  disheartened,  and,  to 
add  to  my  annoyance,  was  still  without  any  reply 
to  my  letter  of  inquiry,  written  one  week  ago.  Bat 
what  could  I  do  ?  Manifestly  nothing  more  than 
to  wait,  with  what  patience  I  could  command,  un- 
til such  time  -as  his  majesty,  Mr.  George  B.  Fessen- 
den,  should  see  fit  to  honor  me  with  his  notice 
once  more. 

I  wrote  him  another  letter,  and  then  went  to  can- 
vass in  the  country,  for  a  few  days,  until  he  should 
have  time  to  answer  this.  I  worked  energetically 
among  the  farmers  of  that  region,  and  succeeded  in 
selling  books  enough  to  pay  my  expenses  and 
something  more,  at  the  end  of  which  time  I  return- 
ed to  Goshen,  and  again  presented  myself  at  the 
Express  office.  "  Nothing  has  come  for  you,  Miss," 
said  the  agent. 

I  turned  away  without  any  reply,  almost  sick  at 
heart,  and  bent  my  steps  to  the  Postoffice. 

"  What  name  ?  "  said  the  delivery  clerk. 

"Mrs.  M.  Ford." 

"  Yes,  here  is  one,"  and  he  handed  me  a  letter. 

It  bore  the  Cincinnati  post-mark,  and  I  broke 
the  seal  with  eager  anxiety.  It  ran  thus  : 

"  Mrs.  M.  Ford — I  am  sorry  to  say  we  are  out  of 
the  General  History  of  Freemasonry,  and  will  not 
be  able  to  fill  your  orders  for  some  time  to  come. 
In  about  two  weeks  we  hope  to  be  able  to  supply 
all  your  calls.  Regretting  the  delay,  but  hoping 
it  may  prove  no  serious  inconvenience  to  you,  I  re- 
main, etc.,  GEO.  B.  FESSENDEN." 


THE   LIFE    OF    A    BOOK    AGENT.  437 

Out  of  books,  indeed !  No  serious  inconvenience, 
forsooth  !  This  letter  capped  the  climax — this  was 
the  last  feather  that  broke  the  camel's  back. 
What  business  had  he  to  get  out  of  books  ?  He 
knew  I  was  selling  a  great  many — he  knew  that  I 
was  at  work  all  the  time,  and  that,  in  the  last  three 
months,  I  had  sold  over  three  hundred  copies.  I 
reported  my  sales  to  him  weekly,  and  he  knew,  or 
ought  to  have  known,  about  how  many  I  would  re- 
quire ;  and  why  did  he  allow  his  stock  to  become 
exhausted?  It  was  easy  for  him  to  say  he  hoped 
it  would  put  me  to  no  serious  inconvenience  ;  and 
it  was  a  small  matter  to  him  that  I  had  to  lie  idle, 
or  almost  so,  for  weeks  at  a  time,  on  account  of  his 
neglect ;  but  to  me  it  was  not  a  small  matter.  It 
was  my  meat  and  drink :  upon  the  sales  of  the 
book  he  was  "  out  of"  depended  my  support  arid 
that  of  my  two  little  babes,  at  Indianapolis ;  and 
to  me  it  was  a  very  "  serious  inconvenience."  But 
I  would  see  that  the  same  thing  did  not  happen 
again  while  I  worked  for  him.  I  would  order 
books  for  a  month  or  more  before  I  expected  to 
visit  a  place,  and  would  report  that  place  canvass- 
ed, and  thus  I  might  possibly  get  them  when  I 
wanted  them. 

Such  were  my  reflections  as  I  read  this  letter, 
but,  for  the  present,  I  could  do  nothing.  I  would 
have  to  wait  the  two  weeks  any  how,  and  what 
should  I  do  during  that  time  ?  I  had  heard  that 
there  was  a  very  superior  school  for  little  children 
at  Springfield  Illinois,  and  I  decided,  while  wait- 


438  THE   LIFE   OF   A   BOOK   AGENT. 

ing  Mr.  Fessenden's  "  inconvenience,"  to  go  there 
and  see  if  it  was  desirable  to  send  my  children 
there,  inasmuch  as  the  lady  in  whose  charge  they 
now  were,  had  intimated  to  me  that  she  might  pos- 
sibly break  up  her  establishment  and  remove  from 
the  city.  By  the  time  I  could  make  that  journey, 
his  two  weeks  would  likely  be  up,  and  then  I 
might  hope  to  have  my  order  filled,  and  be  able  to 
supply  my  subscribers  in  this  part  of  the  country. 
So  it  was  determined. 


CHAPTER   XXVII. 

IN  pursuance  of  the  determination  mentioned  at 
the  close  of  the  last  chapter,  I  settled  up  my  af- 
fairs at  Goshen,  so  far  as  it  was  possible  for  me  to 
do  ;  called  upon  the  express  agent  and  informed 
him  of  my  intended  absence  for  about  two  weeks, 
and  requested  him  to  retain  in  his  office  any  pack- 
ages coming  for  me  until  my  return,  which  he  prom- 
ised to  do ;  took  leave  of  my  friends  there,  and 
embarked  on  the  cars  for  La  Porte  ;  for  it  was  my 
intention  to  stop  there  a  short  time,  and  visit  some 
of  my  many  friends  in  that  city.  Arriving  there 
in  due  time,  I  found  my  friends  all  well,  and 
passed  a  day  or  two  as  pleasantly  as  I  ever  did 
anywhere  in  my  life.  I  had  taken  the  degrees  of 
the  Eastern  Star  during  my  stay  in  Goshen,  and  as 
the  friend  who  had  introduced  me  to  Elder  Walker 
was  very  proficient  in  these  degrees,  I  availed  my- 
self of  his  kindness  to  become  more  acquainted 
with  them  than  I  had  hitherto  been. 

And  just  here  I  desire  to  bear  my  testimony  to 
the  value  of  these  degrees,  and  to  express  my  sur- 
prise that  they  are  not  more  generally  worked  and 
understood  among  the  Masonic  fraternity  and  their 
wives  and  daughters.  Nothing  within  my  knowl- 
edge will  secure  that  protection  and  assistance 
which  every  wife  and  daughter  of  a  Mason  has  a 

(439) 


440  THE   LIFE   OF   A   BOOK   AGENT. 

right  to  demand  at  the  hands  of  the  entire  frater- 
nity so  readily  and  certainly  as  a  knowledge  of 
these  degrees ;  and  certainly  there  is  nothing 
which  brings  us,  who  are  debarred  by  the  rules  of 
the  Order  from  full  admission  to  its  secrets,  into 
such  close  fellowship  and  affiliation,  so  to  speak, 
with  this  ancient  and  honorable  Order,  as  a 
thorough  acquaintance  therewith.  The  only  diffi- 
culty in  the  way  is  the  fact  that  Master  Masons, 
who  are  thoroughly  posted  in  the  secret  work  and 
ritual  of  the  Order,  do  not,  as  a  general  thing, 
take  the  pains  to  acquire  a  thorough  knowledge  of 
these  degrees,  and  that  ladies  upon  whom  they 
have  been  conferred,  do  not  take  sufficient  interest 
in  them,  from  the  very  fact  just  cited,  to  retain 
enough  of  them  to  make  them  useful.  To  remedy 
this  evil,  I  would  have  every  Master  Mason  as 
much  required  to  perfect  himself  in  these  degrees 
as  he  is  in  the  three  symbolical  degrees  of  the 
blue  lodge,  and  would  have  ladies  upon  whom  they 
have  been  conferred  organize  lodges,  schools  of 
instruction,  etc.,  as  do  our  husbands  and  brothers, 
and  render  themselves  as  perfect  in  their  mysteries 
as  do  Master  Masons  in  the  rituals  of  their  insti- 
tution. In  this  way  the  Order  of  the  Eastern  Star 
can  be  made  really  and  permanently  useful,  and 
the  beneficent  design  of  its  founder  be  carried  out 
to  a  full  and  practical  realization. 

That  the  "  Eastern  Star  "  lodges  here  alluded  to 
can  be  made  really  useful  and  beneficial,  as  well 
as  permanent,  is  proven  by  the  fact  that  they  are 


THE   LIFE    OF    A    BOOK    AGENT.  441 

already  in  successful  operation  in  some  parts  of 
the  United  States,  though  by  no  means  generally 
organized  throughout  the  land.  There  is  one  at 
Goshen,  one  at  New  Albany,  and  probably  in 
other  parts  of  the  State,  and  also  in  the  State  of 
Michigan,  and  probably  other  States  of  the  Union. 
Let  the  number  of  these  organizations  be  extended 
until  they  become  as  universally  known  and  rec- 
ognized as  are  Masonic  Lodges,  and  then  woman 
will  really  derive  some  benefit  from  that  which  was 
invented  by  an  eminent  and  worthy  brother  for  her 
sole  good.  But  to  return  to  myself  and  my  visit. 

Among  other  things,  I  had  a  good  hearty  laugh  % 
with  my  friend  about  my  attempt  to  "  canvass  " 
Elder  Walker.  I  was  still  a  little  sore  over  the 
matter,  and  could  hardly  believe  the  assertion  of 
my  friend,  that  the  "  Elder "  had  not  put  on  a 
little  extra  style  for  the  occasion,  and  that  this 
was  his  natural  style  of  conversation  whenever  he 
wanted  to  be  very  impressive  ;  but  he  insisted  so 
strongly  that  this  was  the  case  that  I  was  forced  to 
yield  my  own  opinions,  though  insisting  that  it 
was  certainly  a  very  extraordinary  style,  and  the 
"Elder"  a  very  remarkable  man.  Doubtless  he 
got  into  this  high-flown  style  while  laboring  in  the 
pulpit,  and  has  seen  no  particular  reason  for  drop-, 
ping  it.  I  remained  in  La  Porte  some  two  or  three  oS^** 
days,  visited  all  my  friends,  and  then  pursued  my 
journey  to  the  capital  of  Illinois. 

I  did  not  visit  Springfield  for  the  purpose  of  can -? 
vassing  for  the  Masonic  history,  it  being  beyond 


442  THE   LIFE   OF   A   BOOK   AGENT. 

my  jurisdiction,  but  I  was  still  nominally  agent 
for  one  or  two  other  works  which  I  had  a  right  to 
sell  in  that  field,  and  I  took  them  along,  thinking 
I  might  perhaps,  sell  enough  to  pay  my  expenses 
there  and  back.  I  also  took  my  specimen  copy  of 
the  Masonic  Mstory,  merely  because  it  was  in  my 
trunk,  and  I  did  not  care  to  leave  it,  lest  it  should 
be  lost. 

,Upon  arriving  in  SjDnngfield,  I  learned  that  there 
was  no  agent  in  that  territory  for  the  Masonic  his- 
tory, and  concluded  that  as  I  had  a  sort  of  "  rov- 
ing commission,"  authorizing  me  to  sell  anywhere 
except  in  territory  occupied  by  other  agents,  I 
would  try  that  awhile,  and,  accordingly  went  to 
work  for  it.  I  also  offered  for  sale  at  the  same 
time,  the  other  publications  brought  with  me,  and 
for  nearly  a  week  I  did  a  very  good  business,  tak- 
ing something  over  fifty  names  for  the  various 
works.  I  then  made  arrangements  with  a  gentle- 
man there,  to  deliver  the  books  when  they  should 
be  sent  to  him,  and  collect  the  pay  for  them,  al- 
lowing him  to  retain  a  certain  per  cent,  for  his 
trouble.  I  ordered  the  books  sent  to  me  at  La 
Porte,  and  intended  shipping  them  from  there  to 
him  myself.  I  had  an  object  in  this  which  the 
reader  will  not  fail  to  perceive. 

While  pursuing  my  labors,  I  had  not  neglected 
the  object  which  originally  induced  me  to  come  to 
Springfield,  and  my  inquiries  had  almost  satisfied 
me  that,  although  the  school  there  was  a  very  good 
one,  still  nothing  would  be  gained  by  sending  my 


THE   LIFE    OF    A   BOOK    AGENT.  443 

children  there,  especially  so  long  as  the  present 
arrangement  could  be  maintained  at  Indianapolis. 
The  reader  will  bear  in  mind  that  there  was  no 
positive  certainty  that  the  school  there  would  be 
discontinued  at  the  present,  and  even  should  it  be, 
I  thought  I  knew  of  places  where,  without  intend- 
ing any  disparagement  to  the  institution  at  Spring- 
field, my  little  ones  could  be  sent  with  much  more 
satisfaction  to  me  than  there.  Still,  I  had  come 
to  investigate  the  merits  of  the  institution,  and 
would  not  do  it  injustice,  or  depart  without  mak- 
ing that  investigation  as  thorough  as  my  abilities 
and  circumstances  would  admit. 

I  therefore  visited  the  establishment,  and  had  a 
long  interview  with  the  lady  who  officiates  as  prin- 
cipal. She  was  a  very  lady-like  and  matronly  per- 
sonage, somewhat  past  the  middle  age,  and  evi- 
dently desirous  of  doing  justice  to  the  mental, 
moral,  and  physical  qualities  of  the  little  ones  in- 
trusted to  her  care.  The  school  was  well  and 
pleasantly  located,  the  children  seemed  to  enjoy 
themselves  very  well,  and  my  impressions  of  the 
school  from  this  examination  were  just  the  same 
as  those  formed  from  my  inquiries — that  there  was 
no  doubt  of  its  genuine  merit,  still  there  were 
places  where  my  little  ones  could  be  established 
more  to  my  satisfaction  than  there.  Others  might 
differ  with  me,  might  be  better  qualified  to  judge 
than  myself — it  is  the  right  and  duty  of  every  one 
having  the  care  of  children  to  decide  these  mat- 
ters for  themselves — but  I  could  not  see  this  school 


444  THE   LIFE   OF   A   BOOK   AGENT. 

in  a  light  which  would  induce  me  to  give  it  the 
preference  over  several  others  within  my  knowl- 
edge. 

My  work  in  Springfield  was  done,  and  still  I  was 
not  ready  to  leave.  In  and  about  Springfield  are 
several  places  which  the  events  of  the  last  six 
years  have  rendered  of  .historic  value  to  every 
American  whose  heart  thrills  with  true  devotion  to 
his  country,  and  reveres  all  that  is  great  and  good 
in  her  history,  and  I  could  not  leave  the  place 
without  visiting  the  tomb  and  the  former  home  of 
Abraham  Lincoln.  Securing  the  companionship 
of  a  friend,  who  was  well  acquainted  with  the 
locality,  we  set  out  the  next  day,  while  the  morn- 
ing was  yet  in  its  infancy,  and  the  air  was  cool 
and  fresh,  for  the  cemetery  where  lie  the  mortal 
remains  of  a  man  who  occupies  a  place  in  the 
great  American  heart  second,  to  none  of  the  ele- 
vated and  noble  characters  who  have  adorned  the 
pages  of  her  history. 

The  cemetery  at  Springfield  is,  I  thing,  the  finest, 
in  its  arrangement  and  ornamentation,  I  ever  saw. 
Other  cities  and  other  communities  have  taken 
pains  to  ornament  and  render  attractive  the  last 
resting-places  of  their  loved  and  honored  dead, 
but  to  Springfield  must  be  awarded  the  palm  of 
having  more  nearly  attained  perfection,  in  this  re- 
spect, than  any  other  place  within  my  knowledge. 
The  smooth,  green,  and  closely-shaven  lawn,  cut 
hither  and  tither  with  finely  graveled  walks ;  the 
regular  and  beautiful  arrangement  of  lots  and  bur- 


THE   LIFE    OF   A   BOOK    AGENT.  445 

ial  places ;  the  pleasant  arbors,  scattered  here  and 
there,  throughout  the  grounds,  give  the  place  more 
the  appearance  of  a  finely-arranged  garden  than  of 
a  charnel-house ;  while  the  splendid  firs  and  other 
evergreens,  which  rise  on  every  hand,  and  through 
which  are  peeping  forth,  in  every  direction,  tall 
and  stately  obelisks,  more  simple  monuments  and 
plain  white  marble  slabs,  are  suggestive  of  a  sense 
of  coolness  and  peace,  which  at  once  brings  to  the 
mind,  in  all  their  loveliness  and  sweetness  and 
power,  those  beautiful  lines  in  which  Montgomery 
has  described  the  calm  rest  of  the  grave.  And  as 
we  passed  within  the  gate,  and  I  stood  enchanted 
with  the  beauties  of  the  scene  before  me,  I  found 
myself  almost  unconsciously  repeating  : 

"  There  is  a  calm  for  those  who  weep, 

A  rest  for  weary  pilgrims  found, 
They  softly  lie  and  sweetly  sleep 
Low  in  the  ground." 

I  was  completely  lost  in  admiration,  and,  for  a 
time,  -could  do  nothing  but  stand  and  gaze  upon 
the  beauties  of  the  scene ;  but  we  passed  onward, 
and  at  last  stood  by  the  tomb  of  the  noble  man^ 
who,  with  a  singular  unselfishness,  and  the  most 
noble  devotion  to  the  good  of  his  country,  had 
stood  unmoved  at  the  helm  of  the  ship  of  state, 
and  by  his  own  mighty  genius  had  guided  her 
safely  through  the  storm  which  threatened  to  in- 
gulf her,  and  had  finally,  when  she  was  just  enter- 
ing the  harbor  of  peace  and  everlasting  security, 
and  when  he  could  see  the  approaching  end  of  all 


446  THE   LIFE   OF   A   BOOK   AGENT. 

his  toils  and  labors,  fallen  by  the  hand  of  an  assas- 
sin, whose  name  and  memory  will  be  execrated  by 
every  lover  of  liberty  and  free  government  down  to 
the  latest  fragment  of  recorded  time. 

Ah !  what  emotions  thrilled  my  soul,  as  I  stood 
by  the  tomb  of  this  man,  who,  born  in  the  hum- 
blest walks  of  life,  and  in  his  youth  devoted  to 
the  most  menial  avocations,  had,  by  the  force  of 
his  own  unaided  genius,  and  the  native  goodness 
of  his  character,  risen  to  the  highest  position  in  the 
gift  of  a  proud  and  powerful  people,  and  had 
achieved  for  himself  a  crown  of  glory,  by  the  side 
of  which  the  brighest  and  most  costly  diadem  of 
a  European  monarch  sinks  into  the  most  utter 
insignificance.  The  mighty  struggle  through 
which  the  nation  had  just  passed,  and  the  burdens 
of  which  she  was  still  bearing,  from  the  firing  of 
the  first  hostile  gun  at  the  unarmed  steamer  Star 
of  the  West,  to  the  last  closing  drama  in  the 
wilderness  of  Georgia,  passed  in  review  before  my 
mind's  eye,  as  I  stood,  with  bowed  head  and  rev- 
erent demeanor,  beside  the  tomb  of  him  who,  under 
Heaven,  had  directed  the  armies  of  the  Union  to 
final  victory.  In  fancy's  eye  I  beheld  the  marshal- 
ing of  squadrons,  and  the  setting  in  array  of  hostile 
forces ;  I  heard  the  clang  of  arms,  the  trampling 
of  armed  hosts,  the  roar  of  cannon,  and  the  crash 
of  musketry ;  I  witnessed  the  ever-varying  and 
shifting  scenes  of  the  battlefield,  as  victory  now 
hung  in  the  balance,  now  inclined  to  this  side,  now 
to  that ;  I  beheld  the  gory  aspect  of  the  field  of 


THE   LIFE    OF   A    BOOK    AGENT.  447 

conflict  when  the  strife  was  ended,  and  heard  the 
low  moans  of  the  wounded  and  the  dying,  as  the 
thirsty  earth  eagerly  drank  up  the  life-blood  which 
was  fast  oozing  from  their  contracting  veins ;  I  saw 
a  mighty  procession  of  mangled,  armless,  legless 
men  closely  filing  by,  and  exhibiting  their  wounds 
as  claims  to  the   memory  and  gratitude   of  the 
country  which  their  valor  and  their  sacrifices  had 
helped  to  preserve ;  I  looked  upon  a  long  line  of 
gaunt,  haggard  forms,  claS  in  tatters,  arid  with 
reason  half  dethroned  by  the  horrors  of  Anderson- 
ville,  and  Salisbury,  and  Belle  Isle,  while  closely 
following   in  their  train,  came  half  a  million  of 
spectral  phantom  figures,  who  had  bidden  adieu 
to  home  and  friends,  and  gone  forth  to  lay  down 
their  lives  in  this  unnatural,  unholy,  and  needless 
war ;  and  among  this  last  procession  I  recognized 
the  tall  and  stately  form  of  an  only  and  dearly- 
loved  brother;    and,  as    I   reflected  that  he  had 
fallen,  not  in  defense  of  his  country,  but  in  the 
mistaken  and  misguided  effort  to  destroy  it,  my 
heart  throbbed  with  anguish,  and  I  turned  away 
my  head,  and  wept  in  the  bitterness  of  sorrow. 

But  I  looked  yet  again,  and,  lo !  the  brighter 
side  of  the  picture  appeared.  I  beheld  the  nations 
of  the  earth  in  mighty  conclave  assembled,  and 
among  them  towered  one  tall  and  stately,  upon 
whose  escutcheon  no  blot  was  to  be  seen,  whose 
banner  gleamed  in  all  parts  of  the  habitable  globe, 
whose  government,  founded  upon  the  rock  of  eter- 
nal truth  and  justice,  bade  defiance  to  the  assaults 


448  THE   LIFE   OF   A    BOOK    AGENT. 

of  the  mad  waves  of  passion  and  prejudice;  I  lis- 
tened to  the  glad  songs  of  four  millions  of  beings 
elevated  by  this  struggle  from  the  condition  of 
mere  chattels  to  the  glad  estate  of  men  and  women; 
I  saw  the  shackles  stricken  from  their  limbs,  and 
cast  into  the  sea  which  is  bottomless,  and  whence 
they  shall  never  be  resurrected ;  I  witnessed  the 
eyes  of  the  struggling  poor  among  every  kindred, 
nation,  tongue,  and  people  under  the  whole  heaven 
turned  toward  our  own  beloved  land,  as  the  beacon 
of  all  their  hopes,  and  the  aim  of  all  their  desires, 
and  I  said  within  myself,  "  Surely  this  result  is 
well  worth  all  it  cost  to  obtain  it." 

I  looked  yet  again,  and  the  future  was  unfolded, 
as  a  scroll,  to  my  view ;  and  I  saw  the  starry  ban- 
ner— emblem  of  our  nation's  sovereignty — waving, 
in  calm  and  peaceful  triumph  over  the  whole  of 
the  habitable  globe.  I  beheld  liberty,  free  govern- 
ment, law  and  order  everywhere  prevailing,  and 
dispensing  their  richest  blessings  to  the  entire 
human  race ;  I  heard  the  rejoicings  of  countless 
millions,  because  of  their  release  from  bondage 
and  oppression  which  had  so  long  bowed  them  to 
the  very  dust ;  I  witnessed  the  sword  beaten  into 
the  plowshare,  and  the  spear  into  the  pruning 
hook,  the  nations  of  the  earth  refusing  to  learn  war 
any  more,  and  the  whole  human  family  devoting 
themselves  to  the  arts  of  peace ;  I  saw  love  arid 
fellowship  and  good  will  prevailing  among  all 
ranks  and  classes  of  mankind,  and  every  man  seek- 
ing his  neighbor's  welfare  before  his  own ;  and  I 


THE    LIFE    OF    A    BOOK    AGENT.  449 

said,  "  Surely  this  man  was  an  instrument  in  the 
hand  of  God,  and  this  Rebellion  one  of  His  ap- 
pointed means  to  work  out  the  high  and  noble 
destiny  which  he  has  appointed  for  the  children  of 
men  " — and  the  vision  was  gone. 

I  bowed  my  head  in  reverent  devotion  beside 
this  shrine  of  the  pilgrimage  of  a  nation,  plucked 
a  rose  from  a  vine  planted  there  by  the  hand  of 
affection,  turned  away  with  my  friend,  and,  cast- 
ing one  last,  long,  lingering  glance  at  the  magnifi- 
cent beauties  of  this  silent  house  of  the  dead,  we 
left  the  cemetery,  and  returned  to  the  city,  where 
we  had  still  another  pilgrimage  to  make  —  another 
visit  to  pay. 

Our  destination  was  now  the  house  which  had 
been  the  home  of  Mr.  Lincoln  before  he  had  been 
called  by  the  voice  of  the  nation  to  assume  the 
mighty  responsibilities  which  had  eventuated  in 
his  death ;  and  thither,  without  delay,  we  bent  our 
steps.  It  is  a  large,  old-fashioned,  two-story 
structure  of  wood;  and  its  situation  bears  testi- 
mony to  the  true  and  correct  taste  of  him  who  had 
formerly  occupied  it. 

We  found  the  house  in  charge  of  a  kind,  elderly 

lady,  by  the  name  of  Mrs.  ,  who,  as  soon  as 

we  expressed  our  desire  to  visit  the  house  and 
grounds,  kindly  offered  to  accompany  us  on  our 
tour  of  exploration.  She  first  took  us  to  the 
family  sitting-room,  where  J^r.^Lincoln  used  to 
unbend  from  the  cares  of  the  world,  and,  in  the 
bosom  of  his  family,  showed  himself  the  kind 

29 


450  THE   LIFE   OP   A    BOOK   AGENT. 

husband  and  father,  the  tender-hearted  man  of 
affectionate  feeling,  the  faithful  monitor  and  pro- 
found instructor  which  he  really  was.  It  is  in  the 
bosom  of  his  family  alone,  in  the  quiet  of  the  home 
circle,  whence  all  deception  is  banished,  and 
where  trust  and  confidence  alone  abound,  that 
man  can  throw  oif,  entirely,  the  mask  which  con- 
tact with  the  world  compels  him  to  wear,  and  ap- 
pear, in  truth,  himself;  and  Mr.  Lincoln  is  said 
never  to  have  appeared  to  more  advantage  than  in 
those  moments  of  ease  and  happy  confidence. 
And  the  affectionate  veneration,  amounting  almost 
to  idolatry,  in  which  his  memory  is  held  by  all 
who  ever  had  an  opportunity  of  enjoying  these 
seasons  with  him,  prove  how  fully  he  was  quali- 
fied to  act  his  part  there. 

We  next  visited  the  large  old-fashioned  parlor, 
and  stood  in  the  room  where  Mr.  Lincoln  had  re- 
ceived his  friends  in  the  pleasant  moments  of  con- 
viviality ;  where  he  had  entertained  and  amused 
his  guests  with  his  quaint  humor,  solid  sense,  and 
inexhaustible  fund  of  anecdote,  and  where  it  was 
said  to  be  impossible  for  any  one  to  spend  an 
hour  in  his  society  without  going  away  sensibly 
improved  and  made  happier.  In  the  social  circle 
he  was  conspicuous.  His  fine  conversational 
powers,  his  genial  humor — which  had  not  the 
least  tinge  of  unkindness  or  sarcasm,  except  when 
called  forth  by  some  covert  or  direct  attack  upon 
himself  or  upon  some  of  his  ideas  of  right,  when 
he  could  make  it  act  like  a  two-edged  sword,  and 


THE   LIFE   OF   A   BOOK    AGENT.  451 

invariably  turned  the  laugh  against  his  antagonist 
— and  his  well-known  goodness  of  heart,  made 
him  a  universal  favorite  in  society,  and  the  center 
of  every  circle,  and  gave  him  a  power  and  an  in- 
fluence in  community  which  is  seldom  equaled, 
and  which  was  always  exercised  for  good. 

From  the  parlor  we  went  to  the  room  which  had 
been  used  by  Mr.  Lincoln  as  his  library,  and 
where,  by  constant  study  and  patient  reflection, 
he  had  trained  his  naturally  great  mind  to  habits 
of  discernment  and  patient  steadiness  under  trial, 
which  so  admirably  fitted  him  for  the  high  and 
mighty  destiny  which  he  was  to  fulfill — that  of 
being  the  chosen  leader  of  a  mighty  nation  in  a 
dreadful  struggle,  involving  its  very  life,  and  the 
issue  of  which  was,  for  a  time  at  least,  doubtful, 
but  which,  under  the  direction  of  Divine  Provi- 
dence, had  at  last  reached  such  a  glorious  termi- 
nation. 

But  why  particularize  further .  Suffice  it  to 
say  that  we  visited  every  room  in  the  house,  and 
that  each  recalled  some  pleasing  recollection  of 
,the  great  and  good  man  who  had  once  inhabited 
it,  but  who  now,  by  the  instrumentality  of  a 
murderer,  slept  the  sleep  which  shall  know  no 
waking  until  the  last  great  day,  when  the  dead  of 
all  nations  shall  be  gathered  together,  and  the 
murderer  and  his  victim  shall  meet  before  the 
Eternal  Throne,  to  receive  the  reward  of  their  deeds 
in  this  life. 

We  then  went  to  the  garden  and  our  kind  hostess 


452  THE   LIFE    OF    A    BOOK   AGENT. 

gathered  me  a  bouquet  of  flowers  which  had  been 
planted  and  cultivated  by  the  hands  of  Mrs. 
Lincoln,  and  which  were,  from  this  association, 
more  precious  to  me  than  any  gift  of  jewels  could 
possibly  be.  They  have  long  since  faded  and 
withered,  but  still  I  keep  them,  and  shall  until  they 
moulder  into  their  original  dust. 

With  heartfelt  thanks  for  her  kindness,  for  she 
steadily  refused  any  other  compensation,  we  bade 
our  kind  entertainer  farewell,  and  I  returned  with 
my  friend  to  her  home,  musing  upon  the  end  of 
all  human  greatness,  which  I  had  seen  exemplified 
by  so  striking  an  illustration.  Abraham  Lincoln 
had  occupied  the  most  exalted  station  which  any 
man  can  attain  in  this  world ;  he  had  achieved  for 
himself  a  reputation  second  to  none  of  the  illus- 
trious personages  who  have  adorned  and  illumi- 
nated the  pages  of  the  world's  history ;  a  nation 
loved  and  revered  his  name  ;  an  entire  race  hailed 
him  as  their  deliverer  and  benefactor;  but  all 
this  could  not  shield  him  from  the  assassin's  hand, 
and  he  now  slept  in  the  silent  tomb — honored,  it  is 
true,  by  all  mankind,  but  alike  unmindful  of  a 
nation's  reverence  and  honor,  the  tears  of  mourning 
friends,  the  blessing  of  those  whom  he  had  delivered 
from  bondage,  or  the  regrets  of  the  world. 


THE  LIFE  OF  A  BOOK  AGENT.        453 

THE  NOBLE  BRAVE. 

Great  men  have  died  and  passed  away, 
Our  nation  mourns  for  them  to-day, 
And  are  rearing  monuments  on  high, 
Towering  away  toward  the  sky, 
Telling  of  deeds  that  have  been  done, 
And  the  victory  they  have  won. 

How  many  soldiers  just  as  brave 
Fill  to-day  an  unknown  grave ! 
And  with  intellect  just  as  bright, 
Died  in  battle  for  their  country's  rights, 
With  no  one  even  to  mark  the  spot ! 
And  oh,  how  soon  they  are  forgot. 

Sad  eyes  have  shed  many  a  tear 
For  the  lost  one,  to  them  so  dear, 
Had  they  means,  how  glad  would  they 
Rear  a  monument  to  his  memory  to-day. 
Not  to  tell  of  his  good,  grand,  noble  deeds, 
But  to  show  loved  ones  he  leads. 

There  is  many  a  veteran  in  this  nation  to-day 
Without  a  home  or  a  place  to  stay, 
Who  left  father,  mother  and  perhaps  a  wife, 
And  for  his  country  risked  his  life, 
Who  pleads  in  vain  with  outstretched  hand, 
.    For  a  pension  from  dear  old  Uncle  Sam. 

Did  they  not  nobly  win  the  cause? 
Are  there  no  just  and  honest  laws? 
There  should  be  a  law  of  just  regard, 
That  would  give  to  each  his  just  reward. 
May  our  next  congress  this  law  pass, 
A  pension  give  old  soldiers  of  every  class. 

The  next  day  I  left  Springfield  and  returned  to 
La  Porte,  where  I  found  awaiting  me  the  books 
ordered  there  for  my  subscribers  in  the  place  just 
left.  Of  course,  they  were  at  once  shipped  to  my 


454  THE   LIFE    OF   A    BOOK    AGENT. 

agent  there,  and,  it  may  be  remarked  here,  that 
they  reached  him  in  safety,  were  promptly  de- 
livered, and  the  proceeds  as  promptly  and  faith- 
fully accounted  for ;  for  which  he  is  hereby 
tendered  my  warmest  thanks.  I  remained  a  day 
or  two  in  La  Porte,  visiting  my  friends  and  trans- 
acting some  business  relative  to  matters  aside  from 
my  agency ;  then  went  to  Mishawaka,  where  my 
books  had  already  arrived,  and  supplied  all  my 
subscribers  ;  did  the  same  at  Elkhart  and  Goshen 
and  the  surrounding  country,  and  my  work  in 
northern  Indiana  was  ended,  for  the  present,  at 
least.  In  all  probability,  however,  I  shall  revisit 
that  locality  at  some  future  period ;  for  my  heart 
holds  a  sincere  affection  for  it,  and  some  of  my 
most  cherished  friends  reside  there. 

But  I  had  been  a  long  time  absent  from  my  little 
adopted  darlings,  and  was  naturally  getting  im- 
patient to  clasp  them  once  more  to  my  bosom, 
gaze  upon  their  beautiful  features,  all  beaming 
with  affection  and  love  for  me,  and  to  witness  the 
improvement  and  development  which  they  had 
made  since  my  departure.  Accordingly,  my 
course  was  turned  thitherward,  and  in  due  time  I 
arrived  at  my  home  in  the  capital  city  of  Indiana. 
I  found  my  darlings  well  and  happy,  under  the 
care 'of  their  kind  instructress,  and  was  proud  and 
happy  to  note  the  manifest  improvement  in  each, 
which  had  resulted  from  her  judicious  and  faithful 
labors.  They,  on  their  part,  were  as  glad  to  see 
me  as  I  was  to  see  them,  and  though  it  is  possible 


THE   LIFE   OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  455 

the  world  contained  at  that  time  three  happier  be- 
ings than  we  were,  I  must  be  allowed  to  say  that 
I  regarded  it  exceedingly  improbable. 


CONCLUSION. 

LET  the  reader  imagine  that  some  time  has 
elapsed  since  the  close  of  the  last  chapter,  and  has 
brought  with  it  corresponding  changes  in  our 
heroine's  situation.  She  no  longer  resides  in  In- 
dianapolis, nor  does  she  pursue  the  avocation  of  a 
book  agent.  She  has  abandoned  it,  not  from 
choice,  for  she  still,  at  times,  longs  for  the  pleasant 
scenes  and  incidents  which  marked  the  days  of 
her  canvassing,  and  which,  in  spite  of  some  un- 
pleasant events,  invested  it  with  a  charm  which 
can  never  fade  from  her  memory ;  but  because  it 
was  no  longer  necessary  for  her  to  pursue  it,  and 
she  felt  that  duty  to  her  adopted  children  de- 
manded that  she  should  cease  from  her  wander- 
ings, and  devote  her  time  and  attention  to  their 
care  and  education  ;  and  if  the  reader  will  call  at  a 
pleasant  mansion  in  the  midst  of  a  beautiful  grove, 
two  and  a  half  miles  from  the  city  of  Lexington, 
Kentucky,  he  will  there  find  Annie  Ford,  happy  in 
the  society  of  her  two  children,  Carrie  and  Willie, 
both  of  whom  have  steadily  improved  in  beauty 
and  intelligence. 

We  will  ask  Mrs.  Ford,  Why  do  you  select  this 
place  for  your  home  ?  and  her  answer  is,  Simply 


456  THE    LIFE    OF   A    BOOK    AGENT. 

because  it  more  nearly  resembles  the  home  of  my 
childhood  than  any  other  place  within  my  knowl- 
edge. The  house  stands  upon  the  same  gentle  ele- 
vation, and  is  surrounded  by  the  same  lovely 
grove  ;  while  in  the  rear  a  lovely  spring  bubbles 
up  from  the  ground,  and  lends  the  same  air  of  de- 
licious coolness  to  the  appearance  of  the  whole. 
My  old  servant,  Caroline,  together  with  her  hus- 
band and  family,  occupy  a  house  on  the  farm,  and^ 
under  his  careful  and  thrifty  tillage,  mine  is  the 
model  farm  of  the  surrounding  country. 

But  whence  came  the  means  necessary  to  pur- 
chase this  beautiful  home  ?  A  portion  of  it  I  earned 
at  my  chosen  avocation,  and  the  balance  I 
realized  from  the  sale  of  some  of  my  property  in 
Georgia,  my  application  for  the  restitution  of 
which  was,  after  some  delay,  granted  by  the  gener- 
al government,  and  my  independence  and  comfort 
for  life  was  thus  secured. 

That  I  am  happy  in  my  present  situation,  it  is 
needless  to  say.  My  life  has  abounded  in  sorrow 
and  misery ;  it  has  been  a  stormy  and  tempestu- 
ous sea;  of  almost  every  species  of  wretchedness  I 
have  endured  my  full  share,  but  through  the  good- 
ness and  mercy  of  Him  who  overruleth  all  things, 
my  lot  of  bitterness  and  woe  has  been  turned  into 
joy  and  gladness.  Through  His  care  and  protect- 
ing kindness  I  have  surmounted  all  my  troubles, 
and  have  at  last  gainel  the  haven  of  peace  and 
earthly  happiness,  and  my  heart  daily  and  hourly 


THE   LIFE   OF    A   BOOK   AGENT.  457 

goes  out  in  praise  and  thanksgiving  toward  Him 
for  all  his  care  and  watchfulness  over  me. 

A  word  or  two  in  relation  to  certain  characters 
who  have  appeared  in  the  history,  and  I  take  my 
leave  of  you. 

Long  after  my  final  separation  from  Eugene 
Giles  Mason,  I  learned  that  the  child  who  is  so 
dear  to  my  heart,  and  whom  I  have  taught  to  call 
me  by  the  name  of  "  mother  " — my  own  little  Car- 
rie— was  the  child  of  him  whom  I  then  supposed  to 
be  my  husband,  by  the  only  daughter  of  a  wealthy 
Georgia  planter.  Her  mother  died  in  giving  her 
birth,  and  was  thus  spared  the  long  life  of  shame 
and  sorrow  which  would  otherwise  have  been  her 
portion.  It  was  Mason  himself  who  brought  her 
to  the  door  in  the  basket  on  that  night  of  lonely 
watching.  He  had  resorted  to  this  means  to  con- 
ceal from  me  the  knowledge  of  his  crime,  as  well 
against  morality  as  against  myself,  arid,  after 
ringing  the  door-bell,  had  concealed  himself  in  the 
shrubbery  until  Silvie  took  the  basket  within  the 
door,  when  he  sneaked  away  until  it  was  time  for 
him  to  come  home.  It  matters  not  how  I  learned 
these  facts — their  authenticity  is  entirely  unques- 
tionable. And  this  was  my  Carrie's  birth. 

As  for  Mason  himself,  his  life  was  wicked  and 
his  death  was  sudden  and  violent.  He  was  de- 
scending the  Mississippi  river  in  a  steamboat,  and 
having  engaged  in  a  violent  altercation  with  a  fel- 
low passenger,  he  was  suddenly  struck  overboard, 
and,  in  spite  of  the  utmost  efforts  to  save  him,  he 


458  THE   LIFE   OF   A    BOOK    AGENT. 

was  finally  drowned,  and  his  lifeless  'body  was  not 
recovered  for  some  days.  In  the  confusion  attend- 
ing his  disappearance,  his  murderer  leaped  over- 
board, swam  ashore,  and  finally  made  his  escape. 
And  so  died  Eugene  Giles  Mason,  a  man  whose 
talents  and  business  qualifications,  if  properly  di- 
rected and  controlled  by  virtuous  and  upright 
sentiments,  would  have  rendered  him  an  ornament 
to  any  society,  but  who,  by  his  moral  deformity, 
had  rendered  himself  only  a  curse  to  the  world 
and  to  humanity.  And  thus  he  was  hurried  into 
the  presence  of  his  Maker,  unwarned  and  unan- 
nounced, with  all  of  his  sins  upon  his  head  unex- 
piated  and  unrepented  of.  May  we  indulge  the 
hope  that  He  who  is  all  goodness  and  kindness, 
and  who  wills  that  none  of  His  creatures  shall 
perish,  judged  his  soul,  not  in  anger,  but  in  mercy 
and  tenderness.  His  body  lies  buried  in  a  lonely, 
neglected  and  unknown  grave,  on  the  bank  of  the 
Mississippi  river,  but  a  short  distance  from  the 
city  of  Memphis. 

.  Frank  C.  Ford  is  dead  and  buried.   His  children 
are  all  living  in  Illinois.     Some  are  married. 

Dear  reader,  we  will  now  bid  you  an  affectionate 
farewell,  hoping  soon  to  meet  you  again,  in  Hap- 
py at  Last,  a  sequel  to  The  Life  of  a  Book  Agent. 

THE  END. 


— 


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